Fate:Nightmare Apatheia
by Heavy Valor
Summary: The forefather of Britannia made a contract with the World. A forsaken Prince, a contract with an Immortal. A Hero, a contract with a Servant. This is the story of these eternal bonds, the victories and failures of their promises. ShirouXSaber, LelouchXCC
1. Reclamation Of A Cruel Angel

**AN:** Fate/Stay Night belongs to Type-Moon. Code Geass belongs to Sunrise. This work is in accordance with Title 17, Chapter 1, Section 107 of the United States Code (as per the Copyright Act of 1976), in that it does not infringe upon any copyrights on licensed works, and falls under fair use as per mentioned section. **No profit is made from this work.**

A recommendation: On the top you will see a bar that looks like this:

Fate/stay night and Code Geass Crossover » **Fate: Nightmare Apatheia **B s . A A A full 3/4 1/2 E E Light Dark

Where it says "full 3/4 1/2," please click 1/2. It's easier on the eyes, and it is how I intend the story to be read. I wish you the best in your experience with my piece. Without further ado, the story begins.

Welcome to Fate/Nightmare Apatheia. Welcome to the war.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1:<span> Reclamation of a Cruel Angel

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 0000 hours

The Imperial Place, Pendragon

* * *

><p>The Great Grail. The Cup of Heaven. The Gate to the Root, to Akasha.<p>

Its swirling form coalesced itself into a terrifying teardrop, the tangible darkness circling malevolently. Clouds, the color of a deceptively peaceful twilight, created the transition into the ephemeral sky at the base of the drop. The sky shifted gradients from this base, the color turning from a rich purple to a twilight red to a brilliant noon gold to a morning pink. It was at the base that the Sword of Akasha interfaced with the Grail. A wisp of the clouds touched the marble platform, the columns solemn sentinels of the events to transpire.

A hulking mass of a man stood before the Grail. His imposing stature, fanciful clothing, and commanding presence meant nothing when in the presence of the Grail. The Grail's height reached the heavens, its width leagues across. The Grail's power tapped into the World, the essence of existence itself. The man was a speck to it.

And yet the man came with an intriguing proposition, one that would fill the Grail with enough prana to grant the Grail's own wish. Not that the human knew that the Grail had a wish. The Grail smiled. Humans. Surprisingly clever, but too selfish to see beyond themselves. The speck spoke, adding more to its prattle about its wish for some warped sort of paradise for mankind. An escape from sin? How cliché. Still, a wish was a wish, and it was a lucrative one at that.

"It has begun. The future is the Ragnarok Connection. The dream that I, and Marianne, and my brother all shared. Continue your part, and I will continue mine."

**_You came to tell me the day of the beginning? The beginning of your plan?_**

The man laughed. His voice deep, his shoulders moved in tempo with every laugh.

"I did. I forget your power."

**_To freely admit that would be tantamount to death for any other man. You intrigue me, Charles._**

Charles zi Britannia crossed his arms. "In truth, I wanted to consult with you. To bring about a world devoid of change requires many changes. A world of memories is no different from a world of souls, for they are both one and the same." His voice deepened, his tone more somber. "In time, people will come to accept a world without change. But what of the world? What of Gaia and Alaya?"

**_Simple. Gaia will seek to forever protect the World, to preserve order. If the will of Alaya, of humanity, stagnates, then Gaia's works will be forever stagnant as well. I do not foresee a problem._**

"The will of humanity and the will of the Earth will perfectly counteract each other?"

**_Precisely._**

"Then there is no turning back. The Ragnarok Connection will stop for no one." Perhaps, at this moment, the Emperor of Britannia felt the full weight of what was to come. To stop the march of time, to stop all of the world's evil. That task would be his ultimate work, his coup de grace for a suffering humanity. He would recreate the world anew. A kinder world, one without treachery or hatred.

**_You have my word, Charles. I will assist you for as long as you keep your contract to me. Should you fail …_**

"I understand." As abruptly as he spoke, Charles fell silent. He gazed into the heart of the Grail for a moment, and then left, vanishing from the platform.

The Grail remained silent for a moment. And then, in ways inexpressible, it laughed. There was no noise, no human sounds. The visible vicissitudes inside the Grail circled and shifted merrily, its wicked and twisted darkness spinning and spinning. The entire sky, even the bright noonlight, felt malicious. The Grail was true now. It was itself, without anyone to judge or condemn it, or to unload their sins upon it.

**_Your plan to destroy Alaya will create a problem. There is a difference in stopping Alaya and destroying it. Without Alaya, without a will to survive, humanity will die. I have long since forgiven humanity of its sins against me. There is no human reason to my hate. Humanity is simply worth hating. By killing Alaya, humanity will die. By killing its will, humanity will die. And that will give me everything I need to fulfill my wish._**

* * *

><p>10 August 2017 a.t.b.,1900 hours<p>

Outskirts of Shinjuku District

* * *

><p>"Engaging enemy forces."<p>

The Immortal ran straight towards the patrol, shooting three times with her silenced handgun. The cool steel jumped her arm slightly, warming as the EM rails discharged. Soft thuds marked the deaths of the resistance members, the blood pooling on the ground.

She didn't care what they looked like, or what the battlefield was, or why they needed to die. All she cared about now was escaping the potential pain, the agony from electrocution, napalm, and waterboarding that would be dealt to her by her handler if she failed this mission.

Her Code allowed her to detect ten alert resistance members behind the door, to brush lightly against the memories of their souls. She closed her eyes.

_Where's Tamaki's group? He said that they would be here-_

_Oh, fuck. Oh-_

_I can do this. I just have to aim and pull the trigger. Nothing to-_

_I hope those guys just stay alive. What was Ohgi thinking-_

The Immortal cut off the thoughts that she intercepted. Now, it was time to incapacitate them.

A black sleeve, with a flared opening and containment straps, was lifted up to reveal a gloved hand. The haze around it cleared. She didn't need the gas for what she was going to do.

She knew that they were standing on metal. This was a chop shop, a dealership of sorts for cars. She lightly, tenderly touched the ground, and let her psychometrics do the work through the electric circuits in her glove.

The projection of her mind travelled along the metal floor, sweeping towards the feet of the fighters, drawn towards the nerves separated by thin layers of rubber and skin. It was irresistible, unstoppable, the deaths of the Immortal given psychosomatic form. Every single hurt she ever felt, a significant portion of all the world's evil. This was the weapon she wielded against the Japanese.

They fell, gibbering and frothing at the maw. Blood escaped out of their ear canals, bile and vomit of their mouth. Though alive, they had the aura of death upon them, an oppressing feeling that sickened anyone unaccustomed to it. They were no longer human. They were animals in mind. Soon they would be treated like meat.

The Immortal gave the signal.

Immediately, the lieutenant entered with her squad, weapons drawn.

One black-clad figure stood over the fallen bodies of the ten fallen resistance members. No amount of humanity could be seen. No eyes. No skin. The figure wore what looked like a standard Britannian straightjacket, except in black, with the straps unclasped and the bells of the sleeves even larger than the norm.

A simple black helmet covered the face, with an ominous orange line slashing vertically on the left eyeline. Underneath the helmet was a black balaclava covering the mouth. In the light, a faint vapor could just be seen flowing from the black oversized sleeves. A flat, fitted metal pack was snugly attached to the figure's back. The outline of the figure was blurred, as if she was a specter of death itself.

The lieutenant smiled.

The muzzles of their guns barked and blasted, a harsh, sharp and abrupt klaxon heralding the deaths of the resistance.

"Excellent work-" The Immortal raised her hand, interrupting the lieutenant. She quietly slipped through the door into the next shop, with the lieutenant and her men following closely.

The Immortal caught a snippet of mental chatter from a single tango in the next shop, her Code reaching through the metal's free-flowing sea.

_Britannian dogs! I swear, in the name of my brother, I will free Japan from you bastards! If only Ohgi would come over-_

Satisfied with the information she found within the tango, the Immortal turned to the lieutenant. "There's an unarmed terrorist behind the fuel drums. She should be interrogated."

A gasp confirmed the Immortal's words.

* * *

><p><em>How did they find me? How did that soldier know that I was unarmed? Damn it!<em>

Kallen Kozuki jumped to her feet. She ran, the metallic scent of auto oil rising to her nose as her feet splashed into the puddles. The tang of blood had mixed in, turning her stomach. She focused on running, on escaping.

She managed to kick a carjack, the hydraulics hissing as the lift fell. It was a lot more painful than she expected, but it was worth it. She saw the soldiers struggle to climb over the van. Limping, she kept moving.

Too little, too late.

Blood entered her mouth. Tangy. Metallic.

The crashing sound of a rifle butt against her head rang out later, when her brain could process it. By that time, her vision was already fading to a calm black.

* * *

><p>10 August 2017 a.t.b.,1934 hours<p>

Shinjuku District, Area 11

* * *

><p>"Gambling again, Lulu?"<p>

"Shirley, it isn't gambling, strictly speaking. He just decided to give me his money. If you want a cut-"

"Lulu!"

"Yes?"

"Ugh. You have no shame, Lulu. Just hurry up and make it back to class."

"Yeah, Rivalz is driving me back. See you."

-click-

"But-"

_He can be so frustrating._ Shirley put her phone back in her pocket. The redhead looked upwards thoughtfully._ He really shouldn't be gambling. He should just get back here._

She looked outside at an overcast sky. _I have a bad feeling about today. I hope Lulu is alright._

"How did this happen?" Rivalz stared at the smoking, crumpled front of his motorbike. The skid marks on the road were still present even as the drizzle intensified to a moderate downpour. "Now we'll never get back to school in time!"

"Relax." A lanky, dark-haired teen took off his helmet as he got out of the sidecar. "We're right next to the Shinjuku area. We can just ask for parts from an automechanic."

"Lelouch, we're two Britannian students in the middle of Elevens. I doubt they'll help us, even if you look at them with those deep, seductive purple eyes."

"Very funny. There's no harm in trying. If you're so scared, wait here." Without waiting for a reply, Lelouch walked towards the Shinjuku district.

"I'm- I'm not scared! I just want to make sure nobody takes my cycle!" Rivalz watched Lelouch enviously. _Man, he even makes walking away look cool. Maybe if I grew out my hair …_

Lelouch was deep in thought as he entered the automechanical sector. If he had looked up, he would have instead thought about the crushing, abject poverty the district faced. This was a dingy part of town. Dark pools of oil mixed with water were strewn about the road, their rainbow traces a parody of the true beauty that both rainbows and Shinjuku once had. Grime and dirt covered the windows, the buildings, the cars. This area was testimony to hell visited to the Japanese.

But Lelouch was deep in thought.

_Perhaps I should have ended a bit differently. My rook? Or my queen? Certainly, it was amusing to see that incompetent nobleman squirm._

So deep in thought that he didn't notice the unnatural silence throughout the town.

_I have to maintain my guard, though. I cannot become complacent. These are all mere distractions before the beginning._

So deep in thought that he didn't see the spectacle in the mechanic's shop until the last moment. The irony between his thoughts and what was happening before him was lost, the urgency of the moment caught by Lelouch's sharp mind.

"You know what we have here, you filthy Eleven?"

Lelouch stirred out of his reverie in time to take in the sight of two squads of Britannian soldiers surrounding a single, seated magenta-haired girl. He ducked behind a car and peered over the window. Dirty as it was, he could see the entire area.

"We have here an honest to goodness member of the Belatu Cadre. You know what that is? Something you should be pissing yourself about." The voice was harsh, but feminine. It was the voice of someone who was used to command, to power, but also of one who was issued a mission from a powerful superior.

A slap punctuated the air, followed by a defiant cry.

"A cold, deep fear piss. Don't worry, we'll make you feel it soon. Now, you'll tell us where the rest of your outfit is, and we just might leave your mind intact." The leader of the squad grinned. "No guarantees, though."

"I'll never tell you anything, you Britannian dogs!"

"What a shame. I'd have thought you Elevens would be more original. And I would have liked to have had your permission before I sent my operative into your mind." The officer smirked. "C.C., dear? You know-"

Lelouch turned to where the officer turned her head. At first, he didn't see anything.

_Is she just talking to a wall? Wait-_

He just noticed a dark figure in the corner of the room. Its outline was blurry, almost as if it was an ethereal shadow. It didn't look so intimidating.

When it spoke, it was terrifying. Its quiet, distorted words filled him with dread. "Lieutenant Watson, there is another presence here."

"What? Where?"

"Behind the car."

Before Lelouch could react, he found himself surrounded by soldiers as well.

The lieutenant walked over to the crouching Lelouche. "Well, well, well. What do we have here? A Britannian student? An Eleven spy? Hm."

Though nervous, Lelouch was able to remain calm, and formulate an intelligible reply. "Ma'am, please let me explain. I'm a student at the Ashford Academy-"

Lelouch curled into a ball, his stomach clenching in pain. The lieutenant then kicked him across the face, knocking him on his side, blood rushing to his cheek. She took out a handkerchief and wiped her feet with it, throwing it at Lelouch in a gesture of contempt.

"Somehow, I don't believe you."

"I am! I'm-"

"I'll give you a little demonstration to show how serious I am. You know about Immortals?" Lelouch froze at the name. The lieutenant's smirk turned into a grin.

"Ah, the look on your face … I take it that you do. Well, this specimen here is our newest model, a special operative. C.C.!"

Lelouch watched, eyes widening in cold horror as the figure called C.C. swept towards the prisoner. He saw C.C.'s hand rest on the prisoner's forehead for a moment, until the wide bellow of its sleeve followed the movement and completely covered the prisoner's face. The screams were muffled, but the struggling in the chair against the bounds was obvious. The chair jumped, screeched with the prisoner's frenzied movement. The prisoner's head bucked back and forth, but with sinister ease the Immortal's sleeve shifted with the movement. The sleeve pulsated, as if it was an organic draining the very life out of the prisoner.

Then, the prisoner froze, trembling. The figure lowered its arm, revealing a terrifying expression plastered onto the prisoner's face. Magenta hair slicked with sweat, eyes wide open with pupils contracted, body shaking. The figure turned to Lieutenant Watson.

"The resistance has split into two groups. One is in the warehouse on Fukinawa Street. The other is opposite this side of the district on Tokugawa Avenue."

"I see. Corporal Majewski, radio that back to HQ." The lieutenant smirked at Lelouch, who could not take his eyes off the figure. "Now, let's get a straight answer from you. Are you an Eleven spy?"

"No. You're making a mistake." Lelouch managed to calm down enough to look at his captor in the eyes. "I am a Brit-"

"C.C." Lieutenant Watson interrupted Lelouch mid-sentence. "Be a dear and find the truth for us."

Time seemed to increase in viscosity for Lelouch as C.C. walked over to him. His mind churned furiously, his own body shivering as a cold sweat ran down his back. _No. It can't end like this. Nunnally. What will you think when they find my body? I have no doubt that if they're willing to use an Immortal on me, then they won't have any qualms about killing me. There's so much I have to do … Mother … I'm sorry. I guess I can't find your killer._

The figure's arm was raised, the gaping sleeve like a void, a gate to an abyss that would never let Lelouch out. Little currents, sparks of electricity leapt from one end to the other. This was something to fear. This was unnatural, wrong. The subconscious, primitive instinct that fueled mankind's survival was screaming at Lelouch. But he could do nothing.

But, in this moment, Lelouch found something to keep his calm.

He felt the cold emanating from the figure only a few feet away, spurring his own pride to return._ I am not going to be finished here. I refuse. I, Lelouch vi Britannia, shall not go down defenseless!_

Even C.C. appeared surprised when Lelouch sprang from his crouching position, left arm outstretched and right arm covering his face. Lelouch had seen what the figure had done with just an arm over the girl's face. There was no way that he would let the figure do the same to him. The wind rushed past his face. The figure leapt backwards, but not before Lelouch's index finger grazed the side of its neck.

_The scum … This is it._ Lelouch returned to the slow-motion world he just left. He watched his arm crawl through space. _If only-If only I had the power to defend myself._ Time sped up back again, and Lelouch stumbled in front of the figure in order to regain his balance. The figure didn't react. It was frozen as an LED beeped on the side of its neck and glowed red.

Her neck whirred, then clicked. Somehow, Lelouch knew that for once, something turned in his favor during this bout of terrible misfortune.

"Dear …" The lieutenant looked nervously at the back of the figure. She could see the obvious panic beginning to take hold of her two squads. "Could you come back over here?"

The figure didn't respond.

A soldier raised his weapon, prompting the others to do so as well.

"Stand down. Our operative hasn't done anything yet." Lieutenant Watson appeared to keep her cool, but everyone could tell that the panic gripped her as well. "Now if we could just-"

Lelouch could never tell who fired the first shot, but all he could do was watch as the soldiers opened fire on C.C. Some of the bullets ricocheted off of the metal plating on the figure's back, but most struck its limbs and head.

Cracks and pings filled the air. Only until the figure fell to the ground did the soldiers stop shooting. Slumped on the ground, the Immortal wasn't an object of terror anymore. Instead, the figure's position made it possible to feel sympathy, to pity her, even.

The lieutenant looked at the blood pool. "Well, I hoped we could avoid that. Ah, well. I guess you really have to die now." She unstrapped her pistol, casually toying with the buckle on her holster. "I would have let you live if you just let C.C. interrogate you. Sure, you would have been a vegetable, but you'd be alive."

Lelouch didn't respond. He just stared at the fallen body in front of him. He didn't know why, but he knelt in front of it. His attentions returned, however, to the scene before him when the lieutenant gave the order to raise rifles. It all seemed as if it all were underwater.

_I guess this is really it. If only I had the power to do something about it. Something to prevent the innocent from facing a situation like my own. To prevent Nunnally from facing it. Nunnally!_

He started in shock when a smooth, gloved hand grabbed his wrist. _But you're dead …_

_You don't want it to end here, do you?_ A soothing female voice spoke. Lelouch found himself surrounded by a vibrant, electric world.

_You appear to have a reason to live._ The world warped, an insane order of lines and streams.

_I saw you die._ Lelouch felt the shock hit even harder. _This is impossible. Am I dead as well?_

_If I grant you power, could you go on with your wish?_ The strange flow accelerated into the scene of two worlds connected. A strange light shone in between.

_I propose a deal. In exchange for this power, you must agree to make my one wish come true. Accept this contract, and you accept its conditions. While living in the world of humans you will live unlike any other._ Apparitions appeared, phantom images that could not possibly exist.

_A different providence. _A throne.

_A different time._ Flashes of command, conquest, and crown.

_A different life._ A glimpse of columned people, asleep, many but each alone.

_The Power of the King will condemn you to a life of solitude. Are you prepared for this?_ A flash of green, then a red V sigil.

Lelouch didn't hesitate. _Power? Power to save Nunnally? To uncover the truth? Yes. I hereby accept your contract. I accept its power!_

_Very well._ With that, Lelouch felt a searing within his mind, as if that female voice was ripping something out of him. The searing was replaced with a cool, relaxing sensation, as if the very voice took its own essence and placed a part of it in his mind. No, it was more than that.

It was as if she took his part from him and mixed her part halfway between them, and the cold just radiated from her part of the process. He felt the new amalgamation split, one piece heading towards the voice and the other to him. As it connected, the cold dominated his mind, harsher than he expected.

But it awakened something, just as it awakened something in the voice at the same time. The pain resonated in both minds, but it could not eliminate the awakened power. A chilling confidence of ultimate superiority. And the cold brought Lelouch back to the moment the figure touched him.

He stood. He looked directly at the soldiers. An imperious air accentuated the arrogance inherent in his actions, even in the face of death. His right hand covered his left eye.

"Lieutenant, what do you think qualifies a man to kill?"

The lieutenant smirked. "Superior firepower. Like the guns we're going to kill you with right now."

"A good answer." Somehow, a smile made its way across Lelouch's face. It was harsh, cruel. But it was full of the righteousness that appears when a man declares his crusade against the world, against all that is wrong with it. "Then, I suppose I am much more qualified than you are. Now I-"

"What!" Lieutenant Watson detected danger for herself and her soldiers.

"Lelouch vi Britannia-" Lelouch began to lower his hand.

"Men!"

"Command all of you-" The Geass sigil became fully visible. It was a V, with two slight, downturned wings on the apexes of the V. It would be the last sight the soldiers would ever see.

"Open-"

"_Die._"

* * *

><p>Welcome, readers. It is quite the pleasure.<p>

Thank you for taking the time to visit this story. I hope you'll enjoy the dive into the amalgamation of Fate/Stay Night and Code Geass.

I would like to present a number of comments before doing so, though.

1. I did mention this before, but I would like to emphasize the point. On the top you will see a bar that looks like this:

Fate/stay night and Code Geass Crossover » **Fate: Nightmare Apatheia **B s . A A A full 3/4 1/2 E E Light Dark

Where it says "full 3/4 1/2," please click 1/2. It's easier on the eyes, and it is how I intend the story to be read.

2. A set of single line breaks, with a *! and link or title inside indicates a piece of music that suits the scene. If you feel that this detracts from the aesthetic viewing pleasure of reading, ignore it. If it is too much effort to look up the piece on youtube, ignore it. If you honestly cannot live with its presence, send a pm.

3. There is a vast number of references to various anime, comics, visual novels, graphic novels, contemporary media, and so forth embedded in this story. I freely take inspiration (to a reasonable degree) from a variety of sources. Credits (as best as I can provide them) will be given at the end.

4. Reviews of any sort are welcome. They inspire, they encourage, they criticize, they improve. Trolling is not reviewing. It is trolling. It is not welcome.

The official story starts at The Reclamation Of A Cruel Angel. The Aftermath File that appears four chapters is background information designed to present a taste of the world that is, composed of a series of "prologue" information. I highly recommend that you read both prologues sometime early on in this adventure, but if you wish to see exactly how the story officially begins, both The Reclamation Of A Cruel Angel and The Fated Knight will lead you on the right path.

A word of thanks to all of the betas that have helped me so much in the past and present. You know who you are. And you really should get on Fanfiction .net.

**EDIT:** These chapters has been revised. For those who've read it from when F/NA was first released, the changes are fairly obvious. I do hope it's more substantial.

**EDIT:** As of 7/27/2011, only chapter one and eight have been edited, and Aftermath Files: Immortals has been released.

**EDIT:** As of 12/28/2011, the C.C. rewrite has taken place, editing out the distribution of Geass to Immortals. Commando Immortals have been written into the plot, and it hopefully will work out.

Continue on, brave readers.


	2. The Fated Knight

5 November 2016, 2136 hours

Pendragon Knight Police Report, 32nd Avenue, Geoffery of Monmouth Lane

**Dispatcher:** His Majesty's Knight Police. What is your situation?

**Caller 1:** Listen to me. Any moment now, they will burst into the room. Do not interrupt me.

**Dispatcher:** Sir, you're very calm. Is there a-

(Sounds of banging and gunshots in the background)

**Dispatcher:** Sir, what is your address?

**Caller 1:** 32nd and Geoffery, but I doubt you'll reach me. Can you please just stay on and listen to my last words?

**Dispatcher:** Sir, I-

**Caller 1:** This is extremely important, and I need you to listen to every word I say. Just let me speak.

**Dispatcher:** Yes, sir.

**Caller 1:** We are the last remnants of the Magus, the true Magus, not the puppets of Britannia that the Association is. There are those in the top of the Britannian government who are annihilating us to eliminate those who hold domain of the Holy Grail War. Now, just remember this. Britannia cannot exist, does not exist without magecraft. Can you do that for me?

**Dispatcher:** This tape is recorded, sir. Is this-

(Pause. More banging and gunshots are heard)

**Caller1:** Yes. Make a copy and hide it. And now, I believe my time is up.

(A loud gunshot)

**Dispatcher:** Sir? Sir?

**Caller 2:** (Heavy breathing) What is your badge number, officer?

(The dispatcher ends the call)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2:<span> The Fated Knight

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 1922 hours

Shinjuku District, Area 11

* * *

><p>It was a quiet day for Shirou Emiya minutes before. The sign with "The Copenhagen Bar" fancifully emblazoned had swung over his head when he opened the door to his part-time job.<p>

He had just left school. As an only child without a guardian, he was responsible for taking care of himself. Most teenagers his age would have complained, but Shirou enjoyed it. The bar he worked at was in a quieter part of town, and occasionally he could watch the remnants of the day leave, enjoying a beautiful sunset that streaked over the buildings, casting tranquil shadows as the night was introduced. His position right outside the bar as he welcomed in patrons was perfectly placed right in the line of sight of the entire twilight, the sun setting between two buildings. The bright light turned the street orange, cheery but mellow. A cloud would sometimes meander into the sky next to the sun, and it would turn a brilliant gold. That really made Shirou's day.

He hoped that, maybe, one day he could share that sunset with a girl. Sure, his life wasn't glamorous. But some girls in school told him that he was "somewhat good looking," "tall," and "buff." And yet he never got a confession. The tradition was, as he knew full well, to ask a girl out. Still, he had hoped that a girl would follow the Japanese tradition. Ah, well. At least, it was nice to dream.

Sometimes, when he daydreamed, he saw himself as a cog in the machine, a whirring, functional, beneficial contributor to society. Of course, he wasn't naive. Sometimes, on a bad day, he would wash the dishes particularly hard, scrubbing and purging and cleansing each dish as if they were the faces of those who mocked him in school, as an Eleven. Yes, the world was harsh. Shirou knew that there was evil in the world, and that, particularly, where he lived was infested with it. Perhaps one day he would be able to fight against even just a portion of all the world's evil. Right now, he couldn't do anything. But it was nice to dream.

He had absolutely no idea about the chaos that was affecting the other side of the district, the Britannian soldiers purging Shinjuku.

Until they started firing.

"Shirou! Run!" The bartender kicked Shirou out of the way before bullets riddled the wall and shattered the glasses that he was washing moments before. The Japanese, redheaded teen just looked at his employer in shock.

Shirou shook his head. "What about you?" He ducked with considerable speed, feeling the flow of air created from a bullet's path.

"How would it look if an Honorary Britannian student-" The bartender paused to lie prone under the desk, and continued: "-was caught in a Japanese bar in Shinjuku?"

It only took Shirou half a second to realize what the bartender was saying and to take his advice. Still, Shirou hesitated. He couldn't just leave the bartender behind.

"We're both leaving. Just stay there." Shirou peered over the counter, which was still being demolished by bullets. He had to focus to smother the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. Already, an undercurrent of absolute terror directed at the situation ran through his mind. Shirou closed his eyes.

_First, I need to make this counter bulletproof. I'm not sure how long it'll hold, but …_ He concentrated, feeling that line in his mind, the energy filling the grains and tones of the object from his power. _Never did this before under fire. It's going to take all of my concentration. Trace … on._

The line solidified into a magic circuit, created from Shirou's reserves of prana. That prana from the circuit was promptly spread throughout the counter, boosting its integrity through the reinforcement of the object's molecular bonds. The bonds did not have energy added into them; rather, the counter's very own origin, its own form was reinforced, making it more resistant to change. The sacrifice of Shirou's own od, his integrity as a human being, powered the new resistance of the counter.

The thudding of the bullets into the bar ceased, becoming the pings of ricochets. Shirou sighed in relief.

_Now, I need to stop these soldiers. The bar next to the burning table._ He grabbed a bottle of vodka off the counter. _Trace … on! _Shirou looked over and tossed the bottle right at the bar. Several bottles shattered, causing a cascade of spirits to follow the still-reinforced bottle of vodka onto the table.

_This is probably going to ruin those reds that I took the trouble of cleaning twice._ Shirou's thoughts were interrupted by the new spectacle. The flames roared with the addition of the alcohols, overwhelming the reinforcement of the vodka.

The bottle shattered simultaneously throughout.

The impact of the blast hit Shirou's eardrums, cursing them with ringing. He was physically pushed closer to the ground, even in his crouching position. The heat and the stench of alcohol caused him to retch, a hot, tangy stench that filled his mouth and nose. A shard of glass nicked his cheek, causing a trickle of blood to drip down his face. He retched, as the pungent odor of whiskey slammed into him. Another rack had fell, in a discordant crash of glass.

The Britannian soldiers were forced to cease fire. The flames scorched soldiers in close proximity, and crushed others who were too close to the collapsing bar. Their screams …

Shirou shook his head. "Alright, let's get out of here!" He turned back to his employer, who was lying on the ground. "We have to hurry. I can carry you if-" He stopped when he saw the cavern in the back of the bartender's head. He felt numb. A bloody mess presented itself to his eyes-

Before it registered that his employer was dead, Shirou was already running from The Copenhagen Bar.

Shirou was fit enough to keep running for fifteen blocks, stopping at Tokugawa Avenue. Panting, he stopped to recover. That proved to be a mistake on his part. His mind returned to the bartender, lying on the floor with his-

_Don't think about it. You did the best you could. _

_But what if that caused him to stay behind? What if he was waiting for you to escape first?_

_You protected him. He would have died if you didn't delay them._

_He still died. _

_Where's the justice in that?_

The crack of rifles caused Shirou to crouch instinctively. He peered around the corner of the building, gasping at the sheer mass of soldiers engaged in combat with flashes of light flickering inside a restaurant. Running became Shirou's immediate concern.

Shattered sidewalks, toppled garbage, bloody and soiled corpses all just sped past Shirou as he kept running. He was grateful for his habit of keeping in shape with chores and archery. However, by a combination of bad luck, his decision to turn on Fukinawa, and Lieutenant Jennifer Watson's report about the position of resistance in that vicinity, Shirou ran straight into two squads of soldiers and-

_A knightmare?_ Shirou just stared at the bipedal, skate-equipped frame. _What's a knightmare frame doing here?_

It was a Glasgow, the infamous weapon that Britannia wielded over Japan's forces seven years ago. The four, tiny eyes stared at him, cold and mechanical. Some thought it was little more than a tank with limbs. How wrong they were. Lighter armor and greater articulation allowed it an unprecedented advantage in urban combat. Stocky and powerful, the servos and motors in its arms whirred as it lifted its gun.

The undercurrent of terror finally broke through the levees he put up in his mind._ No. This isn't right. How is this fair? Why is this happening to me? _

_This is absurd. I died once. The feeling of fire. I was helpless, I was unable to help anyone. _

_Now, I'm in the exact same place. My enemy now isn't some impersonal, evil force. It's-_ Then it stopped, as reality kicked in. Reality being the cavernous mouth of the knightmare's armament.

Shirou quickly took the hint when it leveled its gun in his direction.

His terror turned into adrenalin.

The gun roared, heavy caliber shots blazing out in a starburst of flames and electromagnetic sparks. The evening sky was lit up by the muzzle flare, the staccato burst shearing into the already violated silence of dusk.

The bullets chewed up the ground beneath Shirou, one just barely touching him. He felt the burning cut into his leg just after he leapt into the alleyway, which was briefly illuminated by the gunfire. The pain sparked and needled Shirou's nerves, spiking his adrenalin to emergency levels. This gave Shirou the energy to limp through the alley and hide behind a dumpster. Too late, however, did Shirou realize that he just trapped himself in a dead end.

He ran his hands on the ground trying to find some sort of weapon. All he felt was a groove in the ground.

"You've got nowhere to run, Eleven. Why don't you come out?" The sneering, cockney Britannian accent made each word crude and harsh. "C'mon, I promise we won't hurt you."

Shirou shouted over the dumpster. "I'm an Honorary Britannian!" He knew, though, that there was little hope for their belief. He was Japanese, and they were Britannians. Worse, he was an Eleven in an Eleven ghetto. How could he hope to convince them that he wasn't part of the terrorists?

His fears were not unfounded. "Yeah, that's what everyone tells us. Come out and we'll make your death quick, Eleven."

_I can't die like this. Where's the justice? I won't allow myself to just die without seeing some sort of justice in this world!_ "Go shove it!"

Whatever the reply was, the din of automatic fire drowned it out. Shirou curled up into a ball and exacted one last line of defense. He stretched one hand out to touch the dumpster. _Trace … on._

A hot rod entered his back once more.

He drew it.

It was more difficult than before, but Shirou was able to call upon his prana again. This time, the energy was drawn from his adrenalin. His prana, his vital energy, was given to the dumpster's being. In particular, its steel origins.

The bullets buried themselves into the wall and ricocheted off of the reinforced dumpster. They just kept pouring from their rifles, the din a cacophony of violence in the fading sky and the diminishing health of the city, until the soldiers had to reload.

_That's one damn strong dumpster._ Those were the last thoughts of a rookie, who decided to lob a grenade into the enclave. It arced gently through the air.

It landed right next to Shirou.

He just reacted, throwing it back at the Britannians.

Twenty soldiers, an alley two meters wide, a knightmare blocking their escape. Half of a second on the grenade's fuse. It was slaughter.

There wasn't any flames, any explosion of the flashy type that was shown in Britannian propaganda. This was a hive of unadulterated carnage. The grenade transformed into hypersonic fragments, ricocheting back and forth between the narrow walls and the legs of the frame. The grey cloud of steel shards and smoke quickly became a red mist of shredded flesh and gushing blood.

Gunnery Officer Gregory Davids watched his men turn to bloody tatters in an instant. "You bastard!" he screamed, aiming his knightmare's assault rifle at the dumpster. He pulled the trigger, feeling the compensators creating sway as the recoil kicked his frame's arm backwards. All he should have felt was recoil, but he served with most of these men since the Pacific Incident. There was no way in hell that he-

The knightmare stopped firing. Davids stared at his controls, which had just ceased responding to his commands. Nothing worked. "Shit." He was blind, deaf, and crippled inside his frame.

* * *

><p>Shirou opened his eyes, peering under his arm that shielded his face. He was cut, bruised, and battered. Still, as far as he could tell, he was alive and unharmed. The large-caliber bullets had almost torn entirely through his reinforced dumpster, but stopped short of harming him. However, he couldn't quite tell if he was still alive.<p>

Blue light had blasted him, a pillar of azure blaze detonated into his vision moments before the last bullet was fired from the knightmare, and somehow, he could tell that he would have died if that bullet struck. The previous light was like a violent rift into the world, a release of energy from a power right before him and rocketing up into the sky. The current light was calming, soft, soothing. It radiated power, controlled and ready. Looking at the ground in front of him, the outline of an intricately lined, sorcerous circle throbbed.

_I'm either dead, or … Something blocked that bullet. But what- What in the world did?_ All Shirou felt right now was an exhaustion in his body. He could have been in heaven, with that calm blue light and a body that was at its limit.

He lowered his arm and looked up still further. The intensifying light drew his eyes towards a figure standing before him. What he saw couldn't be real. The gleaming armor adorning a medieval-styled, cobalt ballroom dress shimmered in the rays. The oversized sheets of metal coated the sides of the skirt, and the bodice and lower sleeves, usually signs of femininity, were enclosed in a breastplate and gauntlets, intricately segmented shells of plate armor.

The figure held her head high, and Shirou suddenly felt a fleeting heaviness of the battle to keep that dignity. But what drew his attentions in was the countenance of the figure. Though her face expressed no emotions, her emerald eyes displayed a sort of stern bemusement in their intense gaze directed at him. _Those eyes … They're the only readable part about her._

Then she spoke, though her words contradicted her noble demeanor.

"I am Saber, your servant. I have come in response to your summons." She paused, her eyes boring into his. "I ask of you … Are you my master?"

Shirou just remained stationary, still taking in the past thirty seconds. _I can't … Is this really happening? I can't speak. Am I dead? No, that's not it. I still feel alive ... I'm in shock. Shocked and awed by all of this. The Britannians, the knightmare, the overwhelming beauty beaming from this girl standing before me. _He found his voice, getting up and meeting her gaze head-on. "Master and … servant? I- I summoned you? Saber?"

Saber gave a cursory glance at Shirou's arm. Looking back at his face, she replied, "Yes. The command seal on your hand is proof that you are my master." The solemn words following matched her deepened stare.

"From this time forth, my sword shall be with you …" Shirou couldn't take his eyes off of Saber's, even as he felt a prickling sensation on his left hand.

"And your fate shall be with me." It was almost as if her eyes were pools of pure verdant, drawing him inside. The back of his left hand flashed with a sharp pain and bled, but Shirou gave no indication of his discomfort.

"Now, our contract is complete." She cocked her head slightly, watching him watch her, even as the pattern of an intricate sword emblazoned itself on his hand. _He seems to have no idea about the War. Although … Hm. I will have to make up for what he lacks._

A shriek of metal caused Saber to jump slightly. _It seems as if he was under duress before. It is time for me to perform my duty._ She spun around to confront the frame behind her, positioning herself into a guarded stance. Her armored legs were solidly planted on the ground, her hands together. "The enemy is moving again. Please stay here, master."

A look of disbelief and anxiety crossed Shirou's expression as he said, "Whoa, just wait!" He ran up and grabbed Saber's shoulder. "What are you going to do?"

The tension in her body was shocking to Shirou, that it could hide beneath such a calm expression. _But how? She's so small. Is she- Is she really going to fight that knightmare? I have to be dead. This is impossible. Who is she?_

Puzzled, Saber turned back to Shirou and answered, "I am going to take vengeance against the enemy, master. I will lead us to victory." She turned again to face the knightmare. Raising her arms in front of her, she readied herself, grasping the air as if it were actually a weapon. Shirou found himself only holding air as well, as she took a swift step forward. Before her departure, he was able to catch a single, almost melancholy whisper from her.

"Promised victory."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Edit done, moving on to improving action in chapters 3 and 4.


	3. Angel Awakened

19 July 2004 a.t.b.

Continuation of Overview from the Camelot Project File 002.

The effects of a Geass vary with each subject that enters a contract, but it is unknown whether a different Geass can be bestowed if a different Immortal enters a contract with the same person. Multiple Geasses in a person have been experimentally proven to be impossible, and so far, the effects of a Geass cannot be neutralized. In addition, Geasses can only be distributed to certain individuals deemed worthy of the contract. Immortals have originally appeared to be fickle with their contracts, but we have confirmed with our cooperative members that to their knowledge, these conditions are absolute.

The psionic powers of Immortals rely on some sort of direct contact with the target. What exactly the target experiences is unknown, but the effects are the same for each tested target. Short-term paralysis and mania have been observed, as well as contraction of the pupil, short-term memory loss, irregular behavior after paralysis, and panic after mania. These powers are nonlethal, but are the result of tampering with the electric signals in the brain, specifically the cerebellum and the prefrontal cortex). Whether this can be replicated by technology remains to be seen, as this tampering alone artificially on human test subjects did not result in anything near the effects of the Immortals' powers.

Their invulnerability and mutual telepathy are still being explored, but it appears that they are absolutes. Immortals are not affected by Geasses and psionics at all, and their telepathy is not affected by distance, time, or any other physical constraints.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3:<span> Angel Awakened

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 1942 hours

Shinjuku District, Area 11

* * *

><p>!* Code Geass - Stream Of Consciousness youtube. com watch?v=lYapZke53yw

* * *

><p>"Prince Clovis, we've lost contact with the Office of Special Intelligence's Immortal Unit."<p>

"It's probably nothing to worry about. Camelot was very specific about their competence. I'm sure that the Office can take care of their own."

"Sir, are you sure about trusting Camelot? They're a highly irregular unit, if you know what I mean."

"I do. Very well, Bartley. Send a battalion to engage whatever active resistance there is in Shinjuku."

"Yes, milord!"

* * *

><p>"Yes, my lord."<p>

Lieutenant Jennifer Watson and her unit of the Office of Special Intelligence appeared to have fallen under a trance. A faint red ring traced around their eyes, a vacant stare forwards.

In unison, they raised their rifles to their chins. Their fingers tightened on the triggers …

Lelouch turned his head away from the imminent carnage. Still, he heard the report from the business ends of their guns, felt the splash of the lieutenant's blood on his cheek.

_So this is how it feels to be a murderer._

_I feel like I did the right thing, but … I think I enjoyed it too much. How did this happen? I just felt something. I felt invincible. No, more than that._

_I felt like a god._

_But …_ He looked at the bodies, and instantly regretted it.

In a less severe situation, a psychopath would have called it art. In this place, even a psychopath's stomach would have turned. Bleeding grey matter from the temples, hair a matted mess, a crater from one side of the head to a burst on the other. It was bad enough that the lieutenant had executed herself in this fashion. But to have twenty other bodies, lined up and dead in the same fashion … It was almost like a macabre assembly line, a series of broken dolls ready to be repaired by the handyman called God- _No. I can't dwell on this. I can be more than this. I can-_

"Is that so?" The figure on the ground turned its head towards Lelouch. "It looked like self-defense from down here."

To Lelouch's credit, he didn't pause in shock. "Of course, seeing a bunch of people die because you told them to isn't shocking at all." Then it kicked in. Lelouch froze only for a second before he knelt and began to look at the figure's wounds. "Don't talk. You've lost a lot of blood, and you've been hit in-" He turned C.C.'s body sideways, only to find-

"Surprised?" The figure's muffled voice still was able to carry a morose note. Lelouch just nodded as the wounds just vanished. It was if the figure's body had reset itself. The figure looked at Lelouch again. "It'll take some time before my muscles work again. Now, could you please take this hat and scarf off?"

Lelouch brought his eyes up to the faceplate and balaclava. _There's no seam. How do I-_

"Button under the ear. Scarf first."

"How did-"

"Glimpses from whatever you're thinking about. It comes with the job. And if you don't mind …"

Lelouch didn't respond. He just focused on the task at hand, not letting the situation affect him. If he did, he would lose his stomach._ Answers later. Getting out of here takes priority._ Still, his curiosity was aroused_. Telepathy, regeneration … Literally Immortal. I wonder what else this "C.C." can do_. As his hand found the button, a thought swept across his mind. _Is this why the Japanese lost the war?_

The faceplate hissed pneumatically, releasing the "scarf." Lelouch pulled it down, revealing the first pale piece of humanity for the figure. The same feminine voice from the contract uttered a low "Thank you." Lelouch blinked in surprise.

"You're a girl?"

"Chauvinist."

He smirked at her reply, despite the circumstances. The removal of the faceplate led to the clatter of the shattered back neckguard, revealing a pair of golden eyes, straight green tresses till the neck, and a red mark barely visible on her forehead. Lelouch pocketed the faceplate and quickly checked C.C. over for injuries, ignoring her pupils' circulatory movement.

"Can you move?" He glanced at her limbs, which stopped bleeding several minutes ago.

"Not really." C.C. wiggled her fingers. "I'll be able to move in two minutes."

She turned her head towards the entrance. "There's no time for you to stay. Reinforcements are coming. If they find you with a room filled with Special Intelligence corpses …" _They'll kill you. _She didn't have to say it for Lelouch to understand.

"And if they find you?" Even after the terrifying threat of- _whatever she did_-, Lelouch somehow felt pity for the girl on the floor. It had seemed as though she was reluctant to carry out the lieutenant's orders. Lelouch made up his mind. He would take the risk.

"That doesn't matter. You have to live to fulfill our contract."

Lelouch just pulled C.C. up, crossing her arm over his shoulder as he stuffed her facepiece into his pocket. "We're getting out of here, and you can't stop me."

She sighed. "I hate stubbornness. Besides-"

Lelouch grabbed a motorcycle helmet and placed it over her head, closing the visor. Despite C.C.'s stifled protests, he draped her arms around his neck and lifted her up, supporting her legs with his arms and leaning over slightly.

_Exactly how much does this girl weigh?_ Lelouch started breathing heavily after the first minute of carrying C.C.. _This really is becoming difficult. If only I called him beforehand …_

"Yo, Lelouch! I got the bike run- Are you carrying-" The unfamiliar voice drew C.C.'s gaze towards the highway platform above.

Lelouch just panted. It felt like his legs would have given out right then and there when Rivalz rode down from the platform, his bike smoking but working. Lelouch ignored Rivalz's exclamations. He just put C.C. into the sidecar before collapsing into it as well.

"Lelouch? Lelouch! Man, I'm getting you to a hospital!"

"No … hospital …"

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just- Drive back to school."

"But-" Rivalz saw several armed men running towards the machine shop that Lelouch just came out from. "Alright then, we're outta here!"

Lelouch finally let his body succumb to the shock and stress. He fell into unconsciousness to the whistling of the passing wind and the glare of two golden eyes under a dark visor.

* * *

><p>Kallen finally came to. She coughed, the bile in her throat aggravating her migraine. The headache worsened when she shook her head in a vain attempt to relieve it. The cuffs restraining her hands and feet didn't budge, no matter how much she struggled. She looked up when she heard the footsteps approaching.<p>

Friends? Or foes? There's only one way to find out. "Identify yourself! I'm warning you, I'm armed!"

The footsteps stopped. Kallen waited anxiously for their reply, still struggling against the handcuffs. "Kallen?"

"Tamaki?" _Well, at least someone is alive._ "Where's everyone else?"

"Inoue, Yoshida, and Sugiyama are here, along with a couple of other guys across the town." Tamaki grinned as he entered. "Armed? Man, Kallen, you're sure in a tight situation. Mhmm."

"Perv. Just get me out of this."

"I kinda like you like this." Tamaki shook his head. "But, if you insist …"

Inoue turned towards Tamaki. "Just do it already. Somehow, the Britannians found our hideouts. There's been some reports from the survivors that Ohgi and Minami are dead. We're the only ones left." She then noticed the bloodbath. "Kallen, what happened here?"

"I …" Kallen looked down as Tamaki shot off the cuffs. _I don't remember._ "All I remember is running from them. They caught me and brought me here. That's all." _What's harder to believe is that Ohgi and Minami are dead._

Yoshida retreated away from the entrance he was guarding. "We'll figure it out later. There's a massive group of soldiers approaching our position."

Inoue glared at Tamaki. "Couldn't you have taken off the cuffs without shooting?"

Yoshida interrupted Tamaki's protests, saying "I think they were heading towards this area in the first place. They're just sweeping the area."

"Unless that's what they want us to think. We need to get out of here." Inoue readied her pistol. "Kallen, Tamaki. You'll leave through the back first. The rest of us will cover the front."

"But-" Hesitating, Kallen looked outside.

"We'll try to bluff our way through." Inoue smiled at Kallen. "Don't worry about us, just go."

"Right." Kallen nodded and left, with an oddly grim Tamaki following. Just before he exited, he saluted Inoue and Sugiyama as the rest began digging in. He bowed his head, knowing that there would be no way to explain two dead squadrons of Britannian soldiers.

"Well, then." Sugiyama frowned. "Let's make this the day the Britannians remembered Japan."

As if on cue, a Britannian soldier entered the shop. "Have you seen any Eleven resistance-" He looked at the corpses, and then at the entrenched Japanese. "Fu-"

He was riddled with bullets, promptly answering his question. He staggered back, holding on to life and his gun, trying to get steady before succumbing to death.

"Well, that was-"

"Don't say easy." Inoue interrupted Sugiyama's banter, wisely prepping a grenade.

The hail of return fire affirmed both Inoue's comment and decision, pinging off of auto frames and concrete walls. Fortunately for the Japanese, the soldiers couldn't get a bead on them. Confidence and bravado were, momentarily, with the Japanese, and it showed in their marksmanship and tactics. The explosion of Inoue's grenade helped continue their cool under fire, killing in shards and shrapnel.

The initial reinforcements were cut down swiftly, but the Britannian military was not the strongest in the world for nothing. Soon, the hammer of a light machine gun found the death rattle of a resistance member. Its rounds chewed into concrete, showers of dust coating the Japanese.

"How many of those things are there?" Yoshida was crouching behind an overturned steel table, gun ready and body coiled.

"Three, by the sound of it. You ready?" Inoue readied her rifle, a makeshift scope (rather, half of a binoculars corrected for the missing half) aligned with her eye.

"Yep. Ready …"

"I'm good. Fire."

Yoshida peered over his cover, and began firing, haphazardly spraying bullets into the Britannian cover. Inoue steadied her aim, focusing on the larger muzzle flashes.

First was the soldier without his helmet, his mouth set as he shook with the recoil, his shoulder directly bracing the machine gun.

Her rifle cracked.

Second was the faceless soldier, his helmet on and his faceguard unreadable. He was more careful with his shots, taking aim before killing Japanese.

Her rifle cracked again.

Third was a-

A Japanese traitor. He deserved no mercy.

Crack.

Both Inoue and Yoshida's bullets were fired simultaneously. For a few moments, the chatter of the enemy's guns were silenced.

"Did we get them?" Sugiyama stood up. It was a natural reflex of one under fire, without training, to look for any remaining threats. Be that it may, standing up, while natural, was not the best move for Sugiyama.

Blossoms of blood exploded from his body. His body jerked like a marionette controlled by a spasmodic puppetmaster. The crimson waterfalls fell almost artfully, the splatter of blood giving fresh color to the ground.

It was undeniably wrong.

Sugiyama was at the prime of his youth. Were it not for Britannia seven years ago, he would have obtained his college degree and continued his family bistro.

He had a crush on Inoue. Somehow, he was drawn to someone similar to him. Blue hair, tall, and fierce. Opposites attract? Not in this case.

Ohgi's resistance group was the only place where he felt like he belonged. Now, he belonged nowhere except back in the arms of Alaya.

He slumped, a rattling sigh almost lost in the night.

Taking their targets by surprise, bullets soon found their way into Japanese bodies. True to their training, the Britannian fire intensified to suppress the Japanese resistance, until one grenade rolled next to a fuel tank …

The explosions lit up the shop.

What could be described? Their suffering was mercifully alleviated by the resulting deprivation of their senses. Blinded and deafened, the resistance could only feel the heat, the impact, and the shards. Cuts and bruises would be the least they would have if they survived this.

An RPG launched by a resistance member went awry, its course altered by the member's death throes.

Inoue held her injured arm. "How're we doing?"

"We've lost two of the East Siders, Sugiyama's in really bad shape, and I'm down to my last mag. You?" Yoshida reloaded, only to curse. A dull click hid beneath the expletive. "Scrap that, mag jammed. All I've got is my pistol."

Inoue blindfired with the last rounds in her rifle over the upturned table she was hiding behind. Ozone from the rails caused her to cough, the sharp scent stinging her nose. She shook her head rapidly, to clear out her stinging nose. It was a welcome, if brief, distraction. "Same here."

"Time to go out in a blaze of glory." Yoshida grimaced, looking down at his bulging jacket. "Never thought I'd resort to this."

Inoue prepped herself as well. "Makes you feel old, right?"

"Only the good die young."

"So cliché. Let's go."

They leapt out of their cover positions, firing their pistols at the general direction of the enemy while pulling the pins.

The pins spun, already fallen a quarter of the way.

Yoshida ignored the tug on his leg as the bullet passed through. Then the tug on his arm. Then the hammer on his chest. He was able to close the distance between the remains of the shop and the Britannian soldiers. He could see the fear in their eyes and the sweat on their brows, their black armor no longer intimidating. He was beyond caring about his own physical wellness now. Right now, he took a step closer to leaving a memory of Japan imprinted on the Britannian psyche, short-lived though it may be.

The pin was now halfway to the ground.

Inoue found herself standing right in front of an entire squad. Her left arm dangled by her side, numb and bloody. She didn't want to move anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep. She closed her eyes. No longer did the bullets hurt. Her severed spinal cord made sure of that. It was a blessing, really. She would die a quick and painless death.

As the moment arrived, they ignored everything. Their wounds, a soldier jumping out to push his sergeant away, the explosions in the shop signifying the fall of the last resisters.

"Long live Japan!"

* * *

><p>Kallen shed tears as she heard the final sacrifice of her friends. Tamaki shook, in both fear and rage.<p>

A gentle, divine wind caressed both of them. Was it a final gift?

For their sakes, let's say it was. The cruelty of faded memories, faded souls is too tangible and harsh to say otherwise.

* * *

><p>Private Suzaku of the 5th Area 11 Guard and the sergeant beside him watched in horror as their comrades were obliterated by the two explosions that lit up the twilight sky. The heat continuously washed over them, the whirlwind of shards barely scratching them due to Suzaku's timely actions.<p>

The end of the night … It ended in a quick discordance of violence.

The end of lives … They ended in a quick discordance of violence.

_What would possess someone to die like that?_


	4. In Shining Armor

15 May 2008 a.t.b.

Excerpt from the High Magus' State of the Association speech to the Magus Association:

"Magic. The basis of both the Church's existence and ours. In the end, all we differ by is our definition of magic. The Church separates magic as an abnormality in their definition of the supernatural, an aberration in a world of aberrations. We see magic as the driving force behind our own Saint Darwin's theories. Science is merely magic's human complement, our ascension in knowledge next to powers that we are just beginning to understand. Indeed, our Association has been witness to this from the very birth of alliance with Britannia's royalty has only become stronger through the centuries.

With our guidance, Britannia has grown to be the leader in scientific and magical prowess. The future of both the Association and Britannia lies in our collaboration to create the pinnacle of mankind. Today, we are in the presence of the ultimate culmination of our cooperation, a fusion of the newest discoveries in Golem magic and robotics. Inside its heart is an infallible energy source, a cube of Imbued Sakuradite fortified by the strength of magecraft and the reliability of technology. Its heart is the Yggdrasil Drive, and it will prove to the world who exactly is the fittest.

I present the Knightmare Frame."

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4:<span> In Shining Armor

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 1946 hours

Shinjuku District, Area 11

* * *

><p>Davids felt his stomach sink. The incessant beeping told him that power was just restored, though at a critical low. His knightmare was still sightless, responsive only to his left controls, and incapable of firing its weapons. All he could do was hope that a reboot would restore power to his hatch, but even that seemed unlikely. The supposedly infallible ejection system was down. In event of a power loss, the ejection unit would use its own power supply to ignite its thrusters. Unfortunately for Davids, that was down as well.<p>

He punched the HUD in frustration. "Damn!" _What the hell happened to my knightmare? That reboot has to-_

The HUD flickered on, returning visuals to Davids.

_Convenient_. He looked at his HUD again. To his surprise, that kid was still there. Along with someone else. From what he could see, the redheaded Eleven was holding a blonde girl's shoulder- wait. Redheaded? Eleven? Blonde?

The gunnery officer realized that the odds were quite slim that an Eleven would have red hair, associate with a clearly Britannian girl in a dress, and wear a Britannian schoolboy's uniform. He was smart enough to understand the consequences of even pointing a weapon at some rich aristocrat's son. Despite what had- _happened_ to his squad, he valued his life over any sort of revenge. Following this logic, he adjusted his only responding controls to lower his knightmare's gun. And instead caused his knightmare to lunge forward.

"Dammit!" He hoped to God that they would not interpret that as an aggressive action. Thankfully, the boy wasn't hurt. _The girl- where did the girl go?_

And then his knightmare just _dropped_.

* * *

><p>On the second step from Shirou, Saber disappeared. She never truly became accustomed with the powers that she acquired as a Servant, but the familiarity of battle lessened her uneasiness.<p>

Reaching the giant in that single leap, she swung her invisible weapon. It was a beautiful weapon, a true pleasure to wield. If anyone else could see it, they would proclaim it as a sword from the heavens. Now, however, its invisibility was a blessing.

Her blade cleaved through the figure's leg with ease. The Invisible Air twisted and hummed, cutting cleanly as it blew the newly divided metal apart in unadulterated halves. Saber's hair and skirt whipped in the gale, the practicality of the closely cut and tied hair and the plates weighing down the skirt evident. The movement of the air created visible slipstreams, white lines emanating from the blade.

She leapt powerfully from the ground, her vision blurring with the speed. Its arm and gun were next, as she brought the blade down in an overhead slash, followed by a twist of her wrists in a double-handed grip upwards. Saber didn't even need to use her strength. She let the air encasing her blade do the work, honing the edge into an invisible fractal.

The disconnected arm she was still facing made a good platform to propel herself. Saber twisted in midair as she continued from her launch from the ground, turning her body so that her feet made solid contact with the side of the arm. She almost knelt there, coiled up in a bundle of pure combative force.

An outburst of dust and metal resonated through the alley, the equal and opposite impact of the arm slamming into the wall shaking the combatants. This was the result of her acceleration from the arm. Saber rocketed upwards diagonally.

In another instant, she was at the head of the- _whatever this monstrosity is_. She narrowed her eyes, deciding to leave the matter for another time. Still in the air, she decapitated it in a shower of electric sparks and torn metal with a sideways stroke. She released one hand from the pommel, allowing the sword to travel in its full arc, until her arm was completely outstretched to her side. The ferocious wind shunted the head into the wall, causing another blast of bricks, metal, and wires.

A simple twist of the wrist again, and her sword was in both her hands again, overhead. Saber brought her sword down as she fell.

_This should subdue the giant._

A great shearing screech filled the air, starting low but intensifying quickly. The resistance between her sword and the giant's iron hide, as well as the conscious reduction in the strength of her Invisible Air, slowed her descent, until she kicked off of it to land in front of Shirou.

The force of her kick reversed the giant's forward movement, causing it to fall backwards.

It slammed into the ground, a titan vanquished.

_Promised victory._ Saber allowed herself a small feeling of satisfaction after determining that the giant was no longer a threat. As it finally collapsed, Saber was already checking up on her Master's health.

"Master?" Saber suppressed the bitter feeling in her throat. Again, the ordeals of being a Servant … That, among others, included servitude. Power with limits. "Are you alright, Master? Were you hit?"

"Shirou."

"I'm sorry, Master?"

"I have no idea why you're calling me that, but my name is Shirou. Shirou Emiya. Call me that." Saber looked curiously at her Master.

"But, Master-"

"Shirou. Please. I'm not in the mood to argue over this." Shirou was slightly taken aback by how severe he sounded, as was the armored girl called- _Saber, was it?_- in front of him. "I'm sorry for sounding so harsh, but this is something I will insist on. It doesn't feel right to be called 'Master.'"

"Very well. Shirou." A small smile graced Saber's face. "Yes. I like that much more than 'Master'. Shirou, are you alright?"

He checked himself over. "Besides a few scratches, I'm fine." Taking a look at the street, Shirou moved towards the end of the alley. He waved Saber over. When she was behind him, he checked that no Britannian soldiers were around or alive, and turned back to Saber.

"Saber. I have no idea what's going on, but we aren't safe here. The entire Shinjuku district is filled with Britannian soldiers, and-" He noticed Saber recoil. "Is something wrong?"

Saber looked downwards. _Britannia …_ "It is nothing. I will eliminate all opposition to ensure your safety." She began to walk past Shirou, raising her arms again as before.

"No."

"Mast- Shirou?" Saber turned back to face Shriou.

"You saved my life. You took out a knighmare before I could blink. I'm going to return the favor."

Saber's mood completely changed. When it came to the protection of her Master … "What you are saying is completely ridiculous. I am a Servant. You are only a boy. My role is to protect you, no matter the odds. That is-"

"No way, Saber. I can't allow that. If you're going to protect me, then I should do the same for you." _I don't know why, but a small girl like her shouldn't be fighting. It's wrong. I don't know why, but that I'm sure of._

"Shirou-"

"Saber, what's-"

"Shirou, you cannot argue about this!"

"Dammit, Saber, you _will_ let me protect you!"

These were by far the strongest words that Shirou ever felt or spoke in his life. As soon as those words left Shirou's mouth, he felt the back of his left hand burn again. He raised it to eye level and watched with Saber as the outside of the sigil vanished, under the still-encrusted blood. As he lowered his hand, Shirou saw Saber tremble. "Saber?"

He found himself forcefully and suddenly pulled downwards, to meet Saber's eyes narrowed in fury. "You really have no idea what you have done, have you? Of all the commands you could have issued, this was by far the most idiotic one you could have come up with!"

He just stared back at Saber. "But you- you'll let me protect you, right?"

"It is not like I have a choice in the matter." She let him go. "My purpose is to protect _you_. And now, you have compromised your safety by forcing me to let you 'protect' me. That sort of impulsive behavior will get us both killed." She lowered her weapon to her side. "So go ahead."

Shirou was still disconcerted by her anger. "Go ahead? I-"

"Protect me. I cannot stop you. I have no idea how you are to accomplish this against-" She paused momentarily to close her eyes. She spoke again when she opened them. "-against ten more of these monstrosities. So tell me-"

"Shhh." Shirou draped an oversized duster over Saber's shoulders. "This should cover you."

"Have you lost your-" She stopped, wrinkling her nose. "What is this rag?"

"It was the only thing long enough to cover your dress." A distant clicking began to approach Shirou and Saber's position. Shirou unexpectedly spun Saber to face away from him and grabbed her by the shoulders, blushing slightly as he did so. "Look, just- just trust me on this, alright?"

In his hands, Saber felt small. "This is no way to treat your Servant …" Shirou was struck by a pang of guilt as he felt her tense and pull her shoulders inwards, becoming even smaller. With a moment of hesitation, he tightened his grip, pulling himself closer to her. Effectively, he hid Saber from view, unless someone removed both him and the duster from her. _I'll apologize later. Right now, we have to get out of here._

He moved out of the alley, guiding Saber along before she could protest further. He navigated his way towards the border between Shinjuku and the Britannian service road. _If we can just get out of Shinjuku before anyone notices, we'll be safe. Even just getting some distance from those bodies would be enough._ Their travel was silent, fitting the rapid transition between twilight to evening. He was stopped by Saber, right before entering the street just beside the road.

"Shirou. Listen." Shirou paused as the marching clicks of soldier's boots drew nearer.

"Saber, I'll ask you again. Will you let me handle this?"

He felt her tremble again. For a moment, he was afraid that she would refuse- or worse, attack the soldiers on the street. Her reply- a curt, wordless nod- alleviated those fears. Sighing in relief, he whispered into Saber's ear. "Thank you."

And he moved into the street, still with Saber in his hands.

Saber still felt the pain from attempting to disobey her Master's Command. It was completely draining to even try to think about going against Shirou's order, but when she saw the Britannian force, she steeled herself to engage them. _Two of those metal giants, and twenty soldiers. I still possess all of my mana, but this Command …_

She actually managed to draw her weapon when the soldiers aimed their weapons and torchlights at Shirou and herself. The consequences were immediate.

It was as if a force slammed into her gut. Saber shuddered. She took another step, only to be thrown to her knees. Sickening images from her past flashed before her. Fire roared through her veins, licking and stabbing. Something corrupt was in her now. Something that was-

_All the world's evil._

Her world turned red, then black. She collapsed completely, only supported by Shirou's arms as they moved from her shoulders to her back and legs. Desperately, she sheathed her sword into astralization. The pain dulled enough to let Saber observe her surroundings, but she could do nothing else. Her life was literally in Shirou's hands.

She tensed when the soldiers surrounded her and Shirou. The action almost caused her to black out, but she still held on to consciousness. A few words drifted into her ears, causing her to devote her attention to the dialogue in front of her.

"-happened? Did you two just come out of resistance territory?"

"Yeah, we tried to take a shortcut, but we got lost. Then everything just …" Shirou turned his head meaningfully at Saber. "We're not hurt, but she's exhausted."

"Bad decision, going into Eleven turf. I'd never let my kids anywhere near an Eleven. You're extremely lucky to be unharmed." Saber felt herself being lifted up by Shirou, an arm holding her back and another holding her legs. She almost didn't recognize her body, until she remembered the garment that Shirou vested her with. Turning her head up, she saw Shirou's eyes looking at her with concern. Then, he moved his head away. The soldier bent over and looked into her half-open eyes. _Let there be a kind man behind that mask. Please._

"She's alright." He looked back at Shirou, apparently satisfied with Saber's health. "Say, I recognize that uniform." The soldier pointed at Shirou's chest. "You're from Ashford, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know how to get back there? So far, it's the safest place to be for kids like you. Intel is pretty sure that there's going to be hell against Britannians for this raid. We've beefed up security there." The soldier checked his watch. "Look, we can't spare anyone to escort you back to Ashford, but the service road is completely secure. We're using it to move men and frames into Shinjuku. It's about a five minute walk to the safe zone's depot. You can rest there. After that, it should be easy to get to Ashford Academy."

"Thanks, sir. Good luck."

"To you too."

Saber felt herself being cradled closer to Shirou. As Shirou began walking away, she caught the last words of the soldiers' communiqués. "Heavy resistance … Sweep … Even women and children … Capture as many … Danger close …"

An explosion rocked the building a few blocks away. Shirou ignored it, looking back down at Saber. He looked grim, but upon meeting Saber's eyes, smiled lightly.

"How's that for being your protector?"

* * *

><p>"Captain, we've found the missing knightmare."<p>

"Let's take a look inside."

The captain entered his officer's override into a keypad on the side of the cockpit. The latch hissed and opened.

"Oh, my word-"

A less elegant private emptied his stomach.

Davids was missing his eyes. In their place were two gaping, red holes, the muscles inside the socket squirming. His left arm was dangerously bloated and red, the other a mess of shattered marrow and burst vessels. His stomach, unlike the private's own, emptied itself literally. It was splayed open, the intestines hanging out like a slug escaping its shell of a ribcage. His legs were the less ravaged part of Davids, but they were taken by spasms every so often. The most disturbing sight, however, was the vibrant pink glow about his skin. In any other situation, it would have looked like a practical joke. But this was war.

The captain possessed a stronger stomach, and inspected the former Britannian soldier. "It looks like Sakuradite poisoning, but this is too violent."

"Sakuradite-" The private took a moment to compose himself. "Sakuradite poisoning, sir?"

"Rumors were that the earliest knightmare pilots suffered from what Davids has. The brass said it was a result of close proximity to the Yggdrasil Drive and an overload of power." The captain lit up a cigarette, and began speaking through the puffs. "Now, it's impossible to get Sakuradite poisoning, since the Drive has been lowered in power and moved roughly two meters from the pilot, with shielding. The only way I can see this is-"

"An overload, sir?"

"Yeah. Which is bad, since that means the Elevens have a weapon that can overload the Drives." The captain thought for a moment, then spoke. "Bring this to command."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> This will be the last update for a week or so. I will be attending a design conference and several follow-ups, so updates may not arrive as often as they have been. I guarantee, though, that June will not be a month to disappoint.

I'd like to thank everyone for their kind and generous reviews. This is my first attempt at a fairly dramatic work, so I'm glad that I'm able to keep you entertained. There will be humor, but not as much as I'm used to. If I really wanted to have a laugh, Ninja Maid Sayoko and Spinzaku would be Servants, and Jeremiah would have a Noble Phantasm of a MOTHEREFFING STORM OF EFFING LOYALTY. Alas, if only.

Keep up the reviews. If there are any flaws in character interpretations, or prose, or grammar, or anything whatsoever, I'd love to hear from you. I may be revising the first chapter to try to fully portray the power of Immortals on humans. That's still something I'd love feedback on.

Thank you for your time.

Heavy Valor Out.


	5. Side Materials: Immortals

**AN: **These are little scraps and drabbles from the original plot bunny for a Code Geass fic, which turned into Fate/Nightmare Apatheia once I finished watching the Fate/Stay Night anime. Currently, these are not canon, but are a guideline for what Immortals will look like.

Feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter. This is simply here because it's a part of F/NA history, and it was originally released as a prologue.

* * *

><p>Side Materials: Immortals<p>

* * *

><p>17 July 2019 a.t.b.<p>

To whoever finds this:

I am one of the few who knows the truth about the world. It feels like nothing's real, but there is a solid rock that the world does stand on. I've looked for the truth. What I've found is the last piece of evidence that the world isn't what they say it is. Hopefully, in a better time, these files will bring the truth to light.

Kayeri Brant III

Former Chief of Counterintelligence of Britannian Military Intelligence 6

* * *

><p>15 January 2019 a.t.b.<p>

Soul Memory captured by Executor Alain

The British Isles. Currently contested.

* * *

><p>*! FateStay Night La Sola Fuyu no Yousei (acapella version) youtube. com/ watch?v=XxpLtJdlfo8

* * *

><p>I see the soul of my nation.<p>

_Why am I fighting?_

I see the glory of Britannia manifested before my very eyes.

_Why am I here?_

Her stature strong, her forces armed, her blade ready at hand.

_Somebody. Anybody._

_Please, let me be free._

I would lay my life for her. Not out of obligation.

_Just save me._

But of my own free will.

_I see the soul of my nation._

"Corporal."

I see the soul of my nation.

"Corporal, get up."

And I am afraid.

_And I am afraid._

"On your damn feet, Corporal!"

It's cold. It's always cold going in. The guys say it keeps them calm. Who are they kidd-

He was pulled up by his lapels. The words still sounded muffled, distortions of ordered sound in the hell he just entered. He just nodded and gripped his gun as his sergeant tapped the side of his helmet. A supposedly encouraging gesture. All Corporal George Taylor could do was run towards the fight. The metallic stench of blood and bullets grew to sickening heights, as did the chatter of guns and the screams of men. The crunch of bone and ground under his feet felt steady underfoot, until-

* * *

><p><em>Two years ago. That's when it all started. No, that makes it sound dramatic. False. What's true is that's when it all just … began to end. When Britannia was reborn. Whether this rebirth will lead to a final requiem remains to be seen.<em>

_So why am I fighting? To be involved in all of this insanity is to be a cog in its sins. I am serving a nation of nightmares._

_This isn't why I'm here. This is what I signed up for._

_But this isn't why I did._

Damnit, corporal! This is no time to be taking a dirt nap!

* * *

><p>He was pulled up by his lapels. The words still sounded muffled, distortions of ordered sound in the hell he just entered. He just nodded and gripped his gun as his sergeant tapped the side of his helmet. A supposedly encouraging gesture.<p>

Back into the fight.

The corporal laid prone, thanking God for being spared the fate of those who had been struck by the mortar rounds. A fresh squad reinforced his position, rifles blazing as they began to set up a base of fire. The gunner opened up as well, the roar of the machine gun obliterating any other thoughts Taylor had. Taylor advanced, running with his new squad.

All of this felt surreal for Taylor. A feeling of fatigue that seemed to grow as his adrenalin supposedly increased. He felt like only he was advancing towards the enemy's position, and the world was crawling behind him. He could actually see the faces of the soldiers shooting at him, contorted in fear and anger. Then they blurred, out of focus as Taylor took cover. Behind him, he saw his fellow soldiers fall in their trench. The knightmare deployed to assist spewed fire and smoke as it too collapsed.

He looked at his rifle, finally noticing that he never fired it once. He felt sick. Some soldier he was. For the almighty glory of Britannia, he should be shooting. But something was wrong.

* * *

><p><em>This isn't right. Why are you fighting? Why is Britannia in this war?<em>

_Your Britannia is sending you to die._

_That's why._

* * *

><p>He shook his head, fired, took cover behind a battered wall.<p>

_I have to stop spacing out like that._

He was pulled up by his lapels. The words still sounded muffled, distortions of ordered sound in the hell he just entered. He just nodded and gripped his gun as his sergeant tapped the side of his helmet. But even that felt muffled. Unreal.

The concentration of enemy fire intensified. Their knightmares, outdated yet deadly modified Sutherlands, had arrived. They spat streams of autocannon fire and flames, blasting and scorching the Britannian position. Taylor saw his companions fall, bodies ripped, burned, and shattered. Still, he was alive. Aiming through the sights, he picked a target and fired. Then, he blinked.

Crystals?

It was only a glimpse, but Taylor was sure he saw crystals flying through the air.

His hands were on his ears before he even knew what happened.

The fortifications they were supposed to be storming were now craters in the ground.

Steaming. The stench of the enemies' open bodies mixed with dirt and steel. Taylor felt his stomach churn in disgust.

He turned back to his comrades' battlelines. A young girl, in a bulletproof vest, a ridiculously low skirt, and a pair of insanely high stockings, stood at the front of the Britannian reinforcements. Two long, black twin-tails of hair whipped wildly in the air, but the girl paid them no heed as she closed her eyes in concentration, then opened them and flung the contents in her hand outwards.

_A magus using raw, imbued Sakuradite …_ Taylor quickly turned to watch the results.

Explosions rocked the battlefield. Outlines of the knightmares could be faintly seen before the balls of light engulfed everything. The cheers of the Britannians were overwhelmed by the screams of the enemy and the din of the continuing explosions.

When the light finally died down, the Sutherlands were simply debris. Only the legs of one and the arm of another were evidence that they were even there before. Taylor looked back to see exactly who the magus was, but she was gone.

"No time for dilly-dallying, men! Keep moving!"

Moving back into reality, Taylor followed his sergeant, with a new squadron, into the crater.

_Maybe I'll be able to survive this war after all._

He ducked down as the enemies' bullets slammed into the sergeant behind him, the air instantly becoming thick and pungent as the sergeant collapsed on top of Taylor. The corporal pushed him off. Feeling sick, he tried to wipe it all from his mind by turning to his training. Reloading interrupted. Bile, sour and vile, filled his mouth as he bent over. Somehow, the noises around him became muffled.

* * *

><p><em>Truth and hope in our Fatherland!<em>

_And death to every foe!_

_Our soldiers shall not pause to rest_

_We vow our loyalty_

_Old traditions they will abide_

_Arise young heroes!_

_Our past inspires noble deeds_

_All Hail Britannia!_

_Immortal beacon shows the way_

_Step forth, seek glory!_

_Hoist your swords high into the clouds_

_Hail Britannia!_

_Our Emperor stands astride this world_

_He'll vanquish every foe!_

_His truth and justice shine so bright_

_All hail his brilliant light!_

_Never will he be overthrown_

_Like mountains and sea_

_His bloodline immortal and pure_

_All Hail Britannia!_

_So let his wisdom guide our way_

_Go forth and seek glory_

_Hoist your swords high into the clouds_

_Hail Britannia!_

_That was four years ago. His Late Majesty Emperor Charles was still in charge. Still alive. But now._

* * *

><p>He was pulled up by his lapels. The words still sounded muffled, distortions of ordered sound in the hell he just entered. He just nodded and gripped his gun as his sergeant tapped the side of his helmet. He stared at the pale, broken face of his dead sergeant.<p>

* * *

><p><em>No.<em>

_This is all a lie._

* * *

><p>Taylor finally woke up on the battlefield. His rifle was on the ground, next to his kneeling frame. He was the only one of the force left. He had failed his country. And his brothers in arms paid the price.<p>

The enemy was marching on his position. Taylor's eyes widened. Leading the enemy forces was a priest, a silver cross around his neck and a black vicar's coat tightly vesting his body. The priest raised his hand. A scar-red V-sigil on his palm seemed to stare into Taylor's innermost core, the tendrils infiltrating his mind finally recognized from all those times before with the repetitions of his sergeant. Taylor shook.

_He invaded my mind, perverted my vision of my commanding officer. I am not fit to be a soldier for Britannia._

_Stop._

He stared into the eyes of the approaching United Federation forces, finally realizing that his unit was fighting against an Immortal of the Burial Agency.

He raised his sidearm to his head.

**I see the soul of my nation.**

* * *

><p>14 February 2003 a.t.b.<p>

Note from the Duke of Wales concerning the commencement of the Camelot Project.

The Power of the King. The Code. Immortals. Contract. Geass.

Some wonder how this phenomenon is possible. Others question its meaning for humanity. For the Emperor, what matters is that this power remains firmly in his control. This order comes from the Emperor himself. Our research division has been given the command to find and capture these "Immortals" with "all possible speed." Failure, of course, will result in dire consequences. Success will establish the Holy Dominion of Britannia throughout the world. Britannia needs a trump card, and the upper brass believes that these "strange ones" are the key to victory. Development of fancifully-called "Knightmare Frames" (little more than overgrown ejection seats) is going slowly, due to setbacks for reasons obvious. There was one pilot who has caught the eyes of several benefactors, but she was one in a million. And an obvious setback is that she was assassinated. We simply cannot rely on these bipedal walkers to ensure our victory. We're counting on the Special Core, Duke Ellington. I have included references to V.V. You'll find him to be quite helpful in this project. Good luck.

* * *

><p>19 July 2004 a.t.b.<p>

Overview from the Camelot Project File 002.

After the start of the project, Camelot has obtained eight (8) Immortals. Five (5) came willingly. Three (3) did not. From the information we have gathered, Immortals live up to their name. They simply cannot be killed. They do, however, have to restore themselves. This can be delayed by conventional means (the longest of which was by extreme conflagration with napalm, which took an Immortal eleven (11) hours, nineteen (19) minutes, and forty-three (43) seconds to recover from). Immortals have different recovery times, dependent on the health of their bodies. Again, though, they will infallibly restore their physical health, no matter the circumstances. This has provided us with countless opportunities to experiment with the noncooperatives. The Immortals do not age as well, limiting the field use of some while extending the use of others.

All Immortals possess four (4) other innate facilities: the power to bestow a Geass, the capability to induce a psychological state of turmoil inside a subject's mind, invulnerability to another Immortal's powers and Geasses, and mutual telepathy between each other.

The effects of a Geass vary with each subject that enters a contract, but it is unknown whether a different Geass can be bestowed if a different Immortal enters a contract with the same person. Multiple Geasses in a person have been experimentally proven to be impossible, and so far, the effects of a Geass cannot be neutralized. In addition, Geasses can only be distributed to certain individuals deemed worthy of the contract. Immortals have originally appeared to be fickle with their contracts, but we have confirmed with our cooperative members that to their knowledge, these conditions are absolute.

The psionic powers of Immortals rely on some sort of direct contact with the target. What exactly the target experiences is unknown, but the effects are the same for each tested target. Short-term paralysis and mania have been observed, as well as contraction of the pupil, short-term memory loss, irregular behavior after paralysis, and panic after mania. These powers are nonlethal, but are the result of tampering with the electric signals in the brain, specifically the cerebellum and the prefrontal cortex). Whether this can be replicated by technology remains to be seen, as this tampering alone artificially did not result in anything near the effects of the Immortals' powers.

Their invulnerability and mutual telepathy are still being explored, but it appears that they are absolutes. Immortals are not affected by Geasses and psionics at all, and their telepathy is not affected by distance, time, or any other physical constraints. However, it must be mutual.

The problem with training Immortals as "super soldiers" is that there is only a limited number of them, and there is no way to create more. All available Immortals must be trained to make the most use of the Camelot Program. Extreme torture procedures were employed to persuade noncooperatives to participate in training. No outstanding negative effects were observed. Control over Immortals is established by metal collars which deliver a painful, fatal shock. This allows us to maintain dominance over Immortals if they rebel. Reconditioning is standard in these instances. However, this has not been needed at all. Still, the collar allows for security for our investments. It can be taken off by a member of Britannian Royalty or a member of the Camelot Project if necessary.

Military training of the Immortals is to commence after the final stages of conditioning. There will be two field commanders, two intelligence agents, and four soldiers. The first generation of these deity-like operatives will realize the dream of a Holy Britannian Empire, universal in scope and infinite in power.

All Hail Britannia.

* * *

><p>10 January 2008 a.t.b.<p>

Report from Earl Lloyd Asplund concerning his first year's involvement in the Camelot Project.

Well, after that brilliant report that defined Camelot's marvelous success with the nobles, the name "DeiDream Operative" has stuck to our Immortals in the project. The official name "Unit Immortal" was chosen just a few weeks ago, but personally, I could care less. I must say, we've come a long way from those primitive methods that my most distinguished predecessor has used. Honestly, though they're immortal, there are cleaner ways to condition them. We use a carrot and stick method. Big carrot, bigger stick. They behave, carrot. They don't, stick. Of course, we have to condition the carrot into the Immortals. They want freedom, which is impossible to grant. So, we make them want something else. Our quacks and shrinks analyze each Immortal to find what carrot would motivate them most. For most, it's an escape from the stick. Wonderfully simple and elegant, isn't it? One problem, one solution. Some do have deeper psychological issues, but those can be exploited for greater control. Quite a few choose drugs. Others get hammered.

Immortals are quite a curious bunch. V.V. has provided me with a great deal of new research from the remnants of the Geass Directorate. The force of their psionic powers is dependent on the age of the Immortal, and relies on a sort of neuro-electric potential difference. This means that their powers can be transmitted along conductive surfaces. The specifics are fatally boring, but overall, the effective average range on metals for an Immortal's psionics is 10 meters. Distance reduces power. Simple, really.

And those limiting collars? Well, we got rid of those. Absolutely barbaric. They've been replaced with a subdermal arsenic patch in the neck. Same ID process to disarm, just grab one of us or a member of the Britannian royalty.

The first graduated class from '04-'07 is faring very well. I must say, over 60 successful covert missions, 20 field missions and not one single need for maintenance. They are far superior to those hideous "Knightmares" that are so temperamental. Honestly, roller-skating giant robotic monstrosities … Those Immortals are hardy breeds. They've adapted to and accepted their position. The second class numbers 6, but will take a significantly longer time to condition and train if we're going to experiment on them as well. Of course, you will get what you've paid for, old boy.

We'll talk later, Charlie. Ta ta!

* * *

><p>23 August 2014.<p>

Report from Earl Lloyd Asplund concerning the training of Camelot Project's third Class.

After that convenient invasion, we had to scrap the research we were doing with the second class and rush them to the front lines. Now, we've had to essentially start from scratch with the trickle of new recruits. Our third class takes "invalids" (Immortals whose "frozen" age is above combat service eligibility) and sends them to the labs. Those fit for combat service undergo an immediate conditioning program, and then to specialization departments. Our third class will span from '10 to '15, due to the irregularity of recruitment. So far, only 4 have trickled in. Ah, well.

More importantly, a task force of Geass users is on the drawing board. Easier to train, better dependability, and just plain cheaper to produce. Field operations are fine and all, but putting down that pesky resistance requires something more delicate than a sledgehammer. Right now, Immortals are quite difficult to spare for local ops. Cheap, disposable operatives will serve well in the espionage and black ops field, whether on their own or supplementing Immortals. We are taking precautions against mavericks, arming only the most indoctrinated recruits with a Geass.

And I must say, those extra funds taken from the Ashford family have helped us greatly. Their loss for investing in a sakuradite-reliant weapon. Intelligence (notably from our Immortal operatives) has us at the forefront of DeiDream training and tech. Our greatest opponent in this, however, is the EU. They have always had a unique attraction for Immortals. They have not been subject to our training, nor do their numbers even compare to ours. However, 6 (as far as we can tell) of them is still a worrisome number. We'll resolve the matter quickly.

Ah, I almost forgot. We have ourselves quite a new catch. Just yesterday we've received a new Immortal. She's quite the stubborn fighter, but a couple of dunkings in the Drowning Pool did the trick. The beauty is, underneath that headstrong demeanor is a delicate little girl who just wants to be loved. Sweet, isn't it? Her standard-issue straightjacket just needed a few adjustments. Now, it feels like an absolutely wonderful embrace when fully strapped. A very elegant solution, if I do say so myself. No drugs, no expenses, no hindering factors. We have her handler acting like a mother. I won't bore you with the mushy details, but this operative may have the most potential of all out recruits.

* * *

><p>23 April 2010 a.t.b.<p>

Headline of The Japan Times

"Mysterious Explosion Claims 20, Boy Disappears From Aftermath"

* * *

><p>27 May 2018 a.t.b.<p>

Psychometric Transmission. Source Unknown.

_Another chance. That is all that I require. Another chance to regain my humanity. To live as if I had never drawn the sword from the stone. To live beyond the sword._

"You've already attempted. Many times. What makes this one different?"

_You have never inquired about this before. Which means it is different._

"Very well. Go on through."

_You still have not given me an answer._

"Were you expecting me to?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> You guys will see a Kayeri Brant III floating around. See above. He's a character created by a good friend and a beta, Mr. Sparkles. If you'd like to create an original character, please send a PM detailing this character.

The RULES for creating a character:

You MUST post a review that is at least 500 characters and has CHARACTER written on it (the CHARACTER is so that I'll know you qualify). Or I'll just TROLOLOLOL all over you. Give me something, and I'll give you something. Fair's fair.

No Servants. No Masters. I already have those planned out to a scientific fact. Don't ask me how.

Keep it sensible. No whores, no zombies, no clones, no evil twins. Keep it original, too.

NO. FREAKING. MARY/MARTY/GARY SUES. I do not want Edward Cullen sparkling in here and sweeping Arcueid off her feet. She'll eat him.

Describe the character in detail. His role is the most important part. Then personality and qualities. Then appearance. More would be great.

Keep the character different from the rest of the characters already in Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night. I do not want a Rin Tohsaka clone. One is terrifying enough, thank you.

Do not make him/her plot centric. I'll integrate the character into the plot.

Understand that I'll do the best that I can to keep the character relevant and alive. Sometimes, that's hard. Sometimes, I can't keep the character in a chapter, and I'll have to put him/her in another.

THERE IS A CAP TO HOW MANY CHARACTERS I CAN HAVE. I AM TENTATIVELY LIMITING IT TO 10. MORE MAY BE POSSIBLE. A chapter update and a review will appear telling when this limit is reached.

One review, one character. Multiple reviews will not entitle you for multiple characters.

Read rule #1.

You do not talk about the fight club.

Thank you so much for all of your time and input. I love all of the reviews you've given me, and you've all given me the drive to hammer out this story. Enjoy.

Read and Review. The next (and real) chapter will arrive in two weeks. Or so.


	6. The Day A New Fiend Was Born

19 July 2004 a.t.b.

Continuation of Overview from the Camelot Project File 002.

The problem with training Immortals as "super soldiers" is that they are limited in number, and there is no way to create more. All available Immortals must be trained to make the most use of the Camelot Program. Torture procedures were employed to persuade noncooperatives to participate in training. No outstanding negative effects were observed. Control over Immortals is established by subdermal explosives. This allows us to maintain dominance over Immortals if they rebel. Reconditioning is standard in these instances. However, use of such precautionary measures has not been necessary in the course of the program. Still, they allow for security over our investments, and can be deactivated by a member of Britannian Royalty or a member of the Camelot Project if necessary.

Military training of the Immortals is to commence after the final stages of conditioning. There will be two field commanders, two intelligence agents, and four soldiers. The first generation of these deity-like operatives will realize the dream of a Holy Britannian Empire, universal in scope and infinite in power.

All Hail Britannia.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5:<span> The Day A New Fiend Was Born

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 2008 hours

Prince Clovis la Britannia's G-1 Base, Area 11

* * *

><p>"Private Suzaku Kururugi and Sergeant Maxwell Stadtfelt of the 5th Area 11 Guard. You two are the only survivors of your squad in Shinjuku."<p>

The two soldiers stood at attention in front of Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Holy Britannian Empire. After receiving medical attention, they were rushed to the command center, the pneumatic doors hissing shut. In the dark room were four figures, dramatically illuminated by the glow of a holo-map, the dots on the screen shifting around rectangles and larger dots. As Private Kururugi approached, the appearances of the figures became clearer.

The first was a tall, blonde man in fanciful garb, hands running through his hair as he sat in his throne. He was handsome, but in a fairly effeminate manner. The white cape over his purple suit was hung on an off-tilt, the tassels frayed and worn.

The second was a portly man, sweat dripping off of his brow. A monocle kept sliding off of his small nose, and he had to keep poking at it to stay on. He scurried quickly for a man of his size, keeping the blue dots constantly moving. He was similarly disheveled, as if some emergency had occurred, and only they could fix it.

The third was a girl. That was certain. She was leaning against the wall, concealed in the darkness. Her hairstyle was split into two twin-tails, but that was all Suzaku could make out. That surprised him, though. The hairstyle was in-vogue when Japan was still Japan, and Suzaku was still somewhat partial to it. The rest of her body was hidden under a boxy jacket and a long skirt. She seemed too young to be dressing that conservatively, but-

She looked up, and Suzaku quickly looked away. He knew the consequences of staring too long at superiors. What stuck in his mind, however, was her face. Her looks stood out, but more importantly- _She's an Eleven._

The fourth was visible under a dim light, but even more inscrutable. He was a good foot and a half taller than Suzaku, which already made it difficult for Suzaku to discern his visage. A pair of broad shades hid the figure's eyes from him, and all Suzaku could see were his sharp features and his white hair, swept back. His skin appeared to be surprisingly tanned, making Suzaku even more uncertain as to the figure's nationality. He worked for the Britannians, though. That was certain. Britannian heavy body armor covered his long upper body, with a black officer's jacket and a ranked epaulet on the left shoulder underneath. Strangely, it looked like the jacket was extended, with long sides covering the figure's legs.

He turned to Suzaku and glared. Even with the shades, Suzaku could feel the charged hostility shot at him.

Suzaku decided to simply stand at attention.

Clovis spoke again, massaging his temples. The G1 Base's lights in the command center weren't exactly functioning, he was supposed to be debriefing and getting his massage an hour ago, and he had lost contact with the OSI's Immortal unit. His own finery was disheveled and not quite up to royal standards. If he was in the Royal Court, he would have been the gossip of the ladies (and not a few gentlemen as well) for quite some time. If only. Clovis would rather have faced those vultures than to stare this situation down. Most of all, he would rather be painting. Or designing wonderful, fabulous swimsuits. For both sexes, and those in betw- Again, if only.

"Please, describe the events that occurred during your mission. You can speak freely." Clovis was in no mood for military formalities.

Suzaku and Maxwell looked at each other, unsure of who should start first. Maxwell made the decision and spoke.

"My prince, we were eliminating Jap- Eleven resistance. When we reached the west side of the district, one of my men stumbled upon a resistance hideout. We were attacked, but managed to respond with minimal casualties, until-"

Maxwell, who became more and more emotional as he spoke, choked up. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and continued. "Until those bastards blew themselves up."

He looked at Suzaku. "If it wasn't for Private Suzaku Kururugi's selfless heroism and courage, I would not be standing here now."

Bartley mopped his head. "We'll keep your commendation in mind."

This was not a good day for him. Whenever something unfortunate for the Crown happened, the first to go was the man serving with a high enough rank to satisfy the superiors. _That would be me, wouldn't it._ Sighing, he addressed the two soldiers.

"What I'm about to show you will not leave this room. Understand?" He raised his handkerchief and dabbed, ignoring the sweat-drenched texture as they nodded. "The paperwork comes later, but we need answers now."

He tapped on the table's interface, raising an image on the screen in front. A black-clad, shapely figure appeared. Confused by the fairly nebulous display, Suzaku narrowed his eyes. The figure was wearing a straightjacket, but with enough armor to imply that whoever was under the helmet was unstable and dangerous. The figure was rotated, revealing the side view, and then the back. Maxwell started.

"I recognize that service insignia, sir. That's an Immortal, right? I was attached to one of their units during the Pacific Incident ten years ago."

Clovis and the girl looked sharply at Bartley, who swallowed and mopped his head faster.

The girl spoke. "Well, it can't be helped. That is an Immortal, Sergeant. She was working with the Office of Special Intelligence and our unit. Your squad was the closest to the location the Immortal was at. That's all you need to know."

"Well, Rin, they also need to know the situation. They just got out of combat." A powerful voice criticized her, and the girl turned abruptly towards the tall man.

"I was just getting to that, Archer." She shook her head and stepped into the dim light of the screen. "Show her face, General Bartley."

"What- Don't order me around, you-!"

"Bartley, do it." Clovis just shook his head at his subordinate. It wasn't time for race relations. Or rather, Area and Homeland politics.

Bartley growled. "Yes, my lord."

A distinctly pretty, _young_ face came up on the screen. Framed by a standard military cut for a female, her expression appeared emotionless, save for a subtle turn of her mouth that could have been mistaken for a smirk. Despite the green hair and golden eyes, she seemed like a normal girl. Save for the suit that still implied every ounce of unnatural and deadly force she could possess.

"She was attached to a unit of OSI's Internal Affairs, which was eliminated to the last man. We cannot find the Immortal, who should have survived and assisted you." The girl shook her head, her twin-tails also waving back and forth. "Did you see this Immortal at all, soldiers? Was she present at all with the OSI or the Elevens?"

"No, sir." Maxwell was just as unnerved as Suzaku was by the Immortal's appearance. She looked nothing like the infamous soldiers that served with decorum during the conquest of Japan and the subsequent subjugation. "We never saw anyone like that during our mission."

Clovis frowned. "Is it possible that the Elevens could have killed them before you got there, and then took the Immortal?"

The girl shook her head and sighed. "Lieutenant Watson is- was far more capable than that. Those were OSI's best. I went over their dossiers with Croomy."

She turned to Maxwell. "Did they seem unusually skilled?"

"Ma'am?"

"Were the men you were fighting against different from any of the usual resistance?"

"No, ma'am."

"Ma'am!"

The room turned towards Suzaku, who paused. _Never interrupt a superior officer. But if she's looking for something unusual …_ Suzaku took the plunge.

"There was something unusual, ma'am. I saw several bodies with Britannian uniforms behind the resistance."

The girl smirked. "Private Kururugi, that's the entire point of your presence here. Of course there would be bodies. Bodies tend to be the result of people dying. You should know this."

Suzaku ignored the girl's sarcasm. "Ma'am, there was something else, too. If they were actually able to take out a squad of OSI, then they wouldn't have- killed themselves the way they did. We were a much more powerful force than the resistance, and they knew it. The resistance could have escaped through the back of the shop, but they didn't. It was as if they were protecting something, or if they were covering someone's escape."

The silence lasted only a moment. Clovis rubbed his hair, and then spoke. "Sergeant Maxwell, you are dismissed. Private Kururugi, you are to remain for further debriefing."

Sergeant Maxwell looked uneasy, but he complied, saluting Prince Clovis first, and Private Kururugi second. "Thank you, Kururugi. I'll make sure you're put up for a promotion."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

The doors shut with Maxwell's departure, and Suzaku returned to attention. "My lord, what-"

The prince held his hand up. "This conversation belongs with-" He looked at the girl, and she just crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "-with Specialist Tohsaka's unit."

"It's Camelot, Prince Clovis."

"You impudent girl!" Bartley became livid. "Show some respect to the prince!"

"Bartley, now isn't the time for this." Clovis, for the nth time today, sighed. "Very well. Camelot will present a proposal for you, Private Kururugi. We're pressed for time, but this has to be kept secret as well."

"Thank you, Prince Clovis." Her tone was surprisingly formal, accentuated by a slight bow, but Kururugi suspected that it wasn't entirely sincere. He quickly stood at attention when he noticed both the girl and the tall man approaching him.

"Private Kururugi." Under the stronger light, Suzaku couldn't help but appreciate the girl's striking looks. She was surprisingly young, about the same age he was. She looked familiar as well. He definitely had seen that hairstyle before, sometime with his father-

"I am Specialist Rin Tohsaka, of the Camelot Special Corps. We normally recruit through a longer process, but as the prince said, we're pressed for time. Area Eleven isn't as secure as the public thinks. We work with the Viceroy and the OSI to keep the peace without, well …" She ran a hand through one of her twin-tails, then lazily let both drop. "Without due incident, as it were. I can't tell you more until you're fully registered in the unit, but you should know that we don't let just any amateur in."

_Tohsaka. That name definitely was familiar._ Suzaku didn't spend any more time thinking about it, though. "I want in."

Rin raised an eyebrow. "We're possibly dealing with a rogue Immortal here. You were pretty quick to jump on. So …" She turned to the tall man, his expression completely imperceptible. "Archer, do you think he isn't an amateur?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Archer shifted his head slightly, the gaze under the shades boring into Suzaku's. Suzaku just returned it.

"Hmph." Archer nodded. "He'll make a good poster boy, when all hell breaks loose. Possibly someone to put the blame on-" He stopped. "Did I say something wrong, Rin?"

Suzaku winced. That look in Tohsaka's eyes was more dangerous than any barrel he had stared down.

"…" She turned to Clovis. "We're done. He's in."

"That's it?" Clovis was skeptical, but he wasn't in any mood to argue. She just nodded in reply.

"My prince, I must protest this decision! Including an Eleven- Well, there's no guarantee that he'll keep this a secret! I would strongly advise you to rely on a Britannian's loyalty to assist us." Bartley's voice was urgent and upset. Common sense would rely on soldiers whose loyalties didn't potentially conflict with their nationalities.

"Bartley, Camelot is best suited to tracking the Immortal down. I know when I'm in over my head. So yes, I'm loathe to surrendering control here …" Clovis held his head in his hands, the very picture of a man whose despair encompassed the weight of command. "But … Camelot would be able to do what my men can't. Besides, it's my brother's unit. I'd _trust_ their competency over my own men." He looked meaningfully at Bartley.

And Bartley realized that his prince wasn't just some fop, as some claimed. That underneath, he really was paying attention. If this did go public, an Honorary Britannian on the team would go a long way to showing the Eleven population Britannian goodwill. If it all went to hell, his prince could just disavow himself from "Schneizel's" actions. "Yes, my prince."

Clovis spoke to Camelot's representatives. "So you're telling me that an Immortal may have defected to the Elevens."

"Yes. But this one was special." Rin crossed her arms, her tone serious. "She was sent here to have her powers honed and controlled. That's not standard procedure. You know how much the Emperor hates deploying Immortals unless absolutely necessary."

"Which is why she had a unit of Special Intelligence supervising her." Clovis's stomach clenched, replacing the butterflies with a severe cramp._ I need something to take my mind off of this later. Perhaps a certain service. I'll ask for Wilhelm again._ Clovis closed his eyes, refocusing on the problem present now. "If his Majesty finds out about this, I'll be exiled for sure."

"We'll handle this first. The Office of Special Intelligence's Internal Affairs is going to have a hand in this as well." Rin frowned, and Suzaku noticed a tangible tension in the atmosphere.

The prince lifted his head, slightly relieved of his concerns. "It's fortunate that the Emperor is too occupied with his studies to be worried about the matter if it even comes to his attention. Still, I want this- I want this gone." He paused, hesitant. "We need someone to handle the resistance while we're searching for C- I mean, that Immortal. I'm going to call my sister over."

"What?"

"My sister, Cornelia."

This was the first time Clovis saw Rin surprised. Her escort reflected this surprise as well. "Commander Cornelia has a very heavy hand. I wouldn't want her in charge of something this sensitive."

Clovis shook his head in disagreement. "I will not take any risks. I may have been vain and frivolous before, but not now. This isn't the time for political posturing."

"I'm sure it isn't. You just want as many people as possible to clean this up for you." Archer smirked as Clovis paled. That was one target Archer could not miss.

"Why, you impudent-"

"General Bartley, it seems like you don't understand. It's not my style, but I'll put it in terms even you would understand. I don't particularly like you. I don't have any qualms ordering my Servant to kill you. So, please …" And Rin just smiled at Bartley.

He gulped.

"Clovis, I'll be sure to tell Lloyd about this. Thank you for your commitment to assisting Camelot with your problem. Schneizel will be glad to watch an instance of your competence soon." With that, Rin snapped a perfect salute, followed shortly by Archer.

Clovis remained silent for a moment, trying to regain his composure.

He stood, straightening his robes as he continued. "With Cornelia's assistance, I do not expect this problem to last long. That is all. Dismissed."

The man named Archer stared down at Suzaku. Then, apologetically ...

"I'm sorry."

Suzaku felt a prick in his neck.

* * *

><p>"So, are we having a bad day?"<p>

A bespectacled face was the first thing Suzaku saw when he came to. The stench of something sickly sweet, sharp and musky was the first thing he smelled. Suzaku turned rapidly, covering his mouth as he coughed.

"Ah, a precocious man who can't take his smokes? I'm beginning to like him already! Good find, Cecile."

"Sir, pudding and cigarettes don't go well together. Mr. Suzaku, please excuse Lloyd." A dark-haired lady in a military uniform stood next to a tall, gangly, white-haired man wearing a lab coat. "He has his habits."

"Now, now, Cecile. We can't expose everything to our newest recruit, can we?"

"Excuse me." Suzaku interrupted, still polite despite his original bewilderment. "Just where exactly am I?"

Lloyd laughed fabulously. "Avalon, of course! Where else would you be?"

"Lloyd …" Cecile shook her head. "Suzaku, that's classified information until we can ask you a few questions."

"A few? That's a few too many. All I need is just one. Private Kururugi, how much experience do you have piloting a knightmare frame?"

"What? But- I'm an Eleven."

"Dear boy, I don't particularly care. We've taken Britannian citizens from throughout the empire who've shown some sort of skill that we need." Taking a puff on his cigarette, Lloyd spun a Devicer's Key around his finger. "We'll put you on the simulator. Unless you-"

"I'll do it." _This is my chance to show everyone that a world without war can exist without violent means._ Suzaku touched his watch. "When do I start?"

"Right now-"

"After you finish the report, Lloyd." Frowning, Cecile thrust a stack of papers at Lloyd. "And please, do take it easy on Mr. Suzaku. He just lost most of his friends in his squadron."

Lloyd blinked. "Oh, dear. We can't have our candidate moping because we didn't let him weep over his fellow Britannians. Go ahead, we'll let you have a good cry in private. Ta ta!"

With that, Lloyd waltzed out of the room.

"I apologize for Lloyd's behavior. He's not-"

"It's alright, Ms. …?" Suzaku then just realized that he was not formally introduced to these curious superiors of the Britannian military.

"Cecile. Cecile Croomy of the Avalon Special Corps."

"Thank you, Ms. Cecile."

"You're welcome, Mr. Suzaku. I'll let you have a few moments of silence."

Cecile left before Suzaku could say anything.

But what could he say?

That he didn't feel anything?

That he never felt anything from seeing the dead Elevens, seeing the destruction on his own people from those who he now called his own?

_The only way that I can unite Area Eleven and end the fighting is to help Britannia destroy the resistance. I can't afford to feel guilt. I can't afford to let regret stand in my path._

_I have to make things right in the world the right way. I have to create some way for Numbers to become equals with Britannians, without using contemptible means._

_I don't feel anything. I've never really felt anything like grief for the dead. That doesn't change what needs to be done to save others._

_But isn't that contradicting-_

The silence was excruciating for Suzaku, because those moments gave him the unwanted opportunity to contemplate what he was fighting for.

"Well, Kururugi-kun, I hope you're enjoying yourself."

He turned in shock. The memories came back, of a young girl who came with a "businessman" of sorts, during a meeting called by his father. She was watching him train, and then-

_"Good luck, Kururugi-kun."_

"I thought you would recognize me, Private Kururugi. Still, it has been a long time." She smiled. "I'm sorry for Archer's little misdemeanor. We needed a blood sample, but I had no idea he was planning to take it that soon, or to lace it with a tranquilizer. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever listens to me … So, Kururugi-kun." Rin Tohsaka began playing with her hair with her right hand, almost unconsciously. "Any questions?"

Suzaku hesitated. Well, he had to call her something. "How- How do I address you, Ms. Tohsaka-"

"Tohsaka-sensei, 'Specialist' Tohsaka. It's not all that important. I'm your superior, and I'll be training you on the Lancelot."

"The Lancelot?"

"The knightmare Lloyd was talking about. We have a simulator, and we're going to put you on it tomorrow morning. It's …" She checked her pocketwatch. "It's 2200 hours. You need your rest."

Suzaku felt a troubled expression cross his face, and Rin noticed. She smirked, her eyes narrowing. "Well, it's not like I'm assigning you curfew or anything."

"Why me, Tohsaka-sensei?"

She blinked in surprised. _I didn't actually expect him to call me that._ "To put it bluntly, because I thought you were trustworthy."

Suzaku looked away. "Then I'm going to earn that trust. Where's that simulator?"

"Are you an idiot-" Rin paused. "Hm."

"What is it?"

"I'll be staying up late as well. I need to run some tests anyway, and you need to catch up to the other recruits."

Suzaku widened his eyes in surprise. "You need your sleep as well-"

"Aha. Are you being a hypocrite, Private Kururugi?" She leaned forward, hands on her hips, making Suzaku bend back uncomfortably.

"N-no, Tohsaka-sensei."

"Then let's go, Kururugi-kun."

* * *

><p>"The Seventh Servant's been found, Bartley?"<p>

"We suspect it. Only the summoning of a Servant could emit that much energy. Clovis, you were correct. We need Cornelia's assistance."

"My father will not be happy. He wanted to have complete control of the Grail War. How did a family escape us?"

"We don't know. Bazett, the Association's emissary, is not happy. The Lords of the Clock Tower are furious. The El-Mellois are calling for your head. I fear this will lead to dire consequences for you, my prince."

"Call in Odysseus."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Well, this has been re-written pretty hard. I think it's better. More rewriting to come. 12/28/11.

Suzaku's spoken lines were mostly taken and adapted from his original conversation with Lloyd and Cecile. Ironically, they make him sound like a soulless psychopath/sociopath in the context of this story. I know a lot of people hate Suzaku. I don't particularly like him either, but I don't hate him. Honestly, he's portrayed as a thoroughly idiotic ass who can't put together two ideas for crap because he's blinded by his morals. I think there's more to him than that.

As I watched Code Geass R1 again, imagining Suzaku as a psychopath who knows EXACTLY what he's doing, but refuses to accept it and hides under a cover of morals makes more sense than someone who fights a completely contradictory battle, only explaining his understanding of the big picture at the very end. The depth of his psychological torment is revealed as he loses everything that is dear to him. His father, Euphemia, his morals, and Lelouch are only a few. It's quite strange, looking at a Suzaku who felt no remorse using "contemptible" means against his own people, and then watching his Big No as he nukes Tokyo. Personally, I think he's a psychopath with a heart. Or a psychopath who hides under the heart on his sleeve.

The next few chapters will be mostly expository chapters, with action scenes here and there. I believe at Chapter 8 things will truly start to heat up.

Again, thank you for your time, patience, and reviews. I look forward to hearing your feedback.


	7. Curtains Rising

**AN:** I'll keep this short. I am deeply, deeply sorry for making all of you gracious readers wait. As a reward, I present a super chapter. Roughly five thousand words, and a special gift at the end. Enjoy, and read the note at the end.

* * *

><p>4 May 2010 a.t.b., 1304 hours<p>

Channel 1 BBC World News

* * *

><p>"Breaking News from the Britannian Broadcast Channel: the Disaster at Fuji. We're coming in with our special correspondent, David Pritchard. Can you give us any clues about the explosion that, according to experts, originated at Fuji and caused these earthquakes around the globe?"<p>

"Jane, what we have here is actually the remains of the largest source of sakuradite in the world. Nothing is left except the ashes of Mount Fuji itself. Our Britannian forces report that the Japanese destroyed the entire mountain by detonating a sakuradite-fueled bomb, causing a chain reaction. Both forces were completely destroyed. As you can see here, several Britannian soldiers on the outskirts of the explosion made a final stand here, only to be engulfed by fire."

"David, what are the potential repercussions of the explosion just two hours ago?"

"Already, the Japanese military is feeling the loss of their air force. Britannia has established almost complete air supremacy over what's left of Japan. Despite their own losses, the Britannian military just released a statement requesting the unconditional surrender of the Japanese armed forces. Whether Japan will is still up in the air."

"What about the long-term effects?"

"Well, Jane, Mount Fuji contained roughly 55% of the world's sakuradite. Sakuradite is used throughout the world for low-temperature superconductors. Now that it's gone, high-yield energy systems are going to be rare and high in demand. However, the crown has resolved to overcome the cowardly actions of the Japanese, and stated that Britannia will not submit to this impediment."

"Thank you, David. The Chinese Federation and Euro Universe have not released statements concerning this tragedy. We'll return after these messages."

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 6:<span> Curtains Rising

10 August 2017 a.t.b., 1624 hours

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

( [] indicates translation from Arabic)

* * *

><p>"[Damn those Britannians! What's the situation on those tanks?]"<p>

"[We're done for! They're too well-armored!]"

"[Our infantry are being slaughtered! They're falling back!]"

"[We can't hold Riyadh. We have to abandon the capital.]"

The communications channel was filled with the panicked cries of MEF troops. Morale was down to dangerous levels, after a string of losses to the Britannians. Atlas alchemists already gave up Saudi Arabia as lost, and retreated to their headquarters in Egypt. And without the cover of alchemists, Britannia's mages could rip into the heart of the Middle Eastern Federation.

And now they were next to Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia. Plumes of sand indicated their position, explosions along the Arabian lines their hostility. They used the typical V-formation for an assaulting armored column. They were the Royal Tank Company, consisting of five platoons of five tanks each, all distinguished veterans. Their blue hulls and purple banners with the Britannian royal crest, as well as their current lack of casualties, demonstrated their superiority over standard Britannian units. And the damage they did …

Gouts of flames, from conventional high-explosive shells and magecraft, engulfed the MEF infantry. They were scorched with impunity, drafted civilians and soldiers alike. The Britannians didn't care, and neither did their firepower. In trenches and behind buildings alike, the lines of infantry crumbled.

The MEF tanks offered a stiffer resistance, but all they could do was resist the munitions poured into their units. Their rounds could not pierce the reinforced armor of the Britannian armor. Quite literally, the armor of a Britannian tank was reinforced by a magus designated to the tank's entire battalion. Reinforcement magecraft is tricky business, especially if the object the mage is reinforcing is constantly being bombarded with projectiles and curses.

With that object multiplied by twenty-five, the task of reinforcement becomes incredibly taxing on a magus. However, with the speed of the Britannian tanks' maneuvers, the aim of the gunner, and the teamwork conducted by an entire unit, the magus was not taxed beyond his means. All of these factors made killing a Britannian tank a truly daunting proposition.

This said, the MEF field marshal was thankful that the Britannians did not have air cover. The war stories (or were they horror tales?) still left him speechless. One Imbued Sakuradite bomb would have ended their campaign then and there.

_Thank Allah for our Sakuradite Disturbers._ The magical equivalent to ECM, it swatted most aircraft out of the sky. He didn't understand too much of it himself, but it somehow disrupted electrical systems at a level beyond an EMP of its price. Tanks and radios could take the interference, but aircraft, with their more delicate systems and their lack of proximity to the ground, could not take it. It was expensive, requiring constant prana flow from a magus and a gram of Sakuradite, but it was effective.

Of course, those would vanish if they let the Britannians take Riyadh.

Currently, the field marshal was barely holding on to his own nerves. He coughed on sand and smoke, but managed to choke out a command. "Give me a sitrep on the Britannian forces."

His lieutenant, a bandage wrapped around his arm, ran over.

"[It's murder out there, mushir. Their tanks and transports aren't being killed no matter how much we pour at them. Our men are experiencing hallucinations, and our officers are unable to communicate our plans. We think it's some sort of psychic interference, perhaps from a spell. I wish those alchemists-]"

A wave of fire impacted ten meters away from the command center, interrupting whatever wish the lieutenant had. The Britannian infantry had finally deployed on the ground, engaging the MEF garrison with a hail of bullets and grenades. They took the bunkers rapidly, reestablishing the infantry-tank dynamic in only a minute. Britannia's invading strength was their perfection of coordinating all aspects of the resources given to the battalion, resulting in a massive force multiplier. This synergy made rapid assaults a favorite of Britannian commanders, the sheer power that could be brought to bear overwhelming opposition easily.

And this strength made itself evident as the Britannians ploughed through the line, focusing their forces and momentum in the direction of the command center. Tanks ground Saudis under-tread, and rifles caught fleeing soldiers in the back. One particularly cruel act was the toss of a grenade into a truck full of panicked civilian volunteers, which drove straight into a refugee's building.

"[Enough. We must retreat to Riyadh herself.]" _I wished to prevent the Britannians from even setting foot in the city, and to prevent the touch of violence from entering. It seems-_

"[Mushir, we're getting a transmission from a secure channel!]"

The field marshal looked up, his eyes wide with a spark of hope. "[Patch it through. Now!]"

Interference from the ECM and Sakuradite Distrubers reigned over the radio for an eternity. Then-

"[Mushir Hossain, this is Bamides Squadron. We'll cover your regroup from the dunes. They won't set foot in Riyadh.]"

Tears of relief streamed down his face. "[Masha'Allah. We'll draw them to the open desert.]"

"[Allah be with you.]"

Mushir Reza Hossain left the radio immediately. "[Full retreat to the desert! Reinforcements approaching!]"

* * *

><p>The Bamides was essentially the streamlined, armored, and heavily armed equivalent of the Britannian G-1 Base. Developed as a potential counter to the knightmare frame, it was one of the few MEF vehicles outfitted with a Yggdrasil Drive, due to the limited supply of Sakuradite available to the MEF. The model was made to be large and powerful, making the most effective use of the Drive, while maintaining a greater maneuverability over a standard tank. Tan camouflage effectively gave the Bamides the profile of a large sand dune.<p>

A 150mm cannon, a pair of six-unit rocket launchers, one autocannon, one 7.66mm machine gun, and a hull 100mm thick made it one of the most powerful fighting vehicles in the world. The round, bulbous head carried the crew, the main cannon underneath, and the two guns on two stubby arms. Two legs with Sand Panels transported the head, enabling rapid and silent levitation over the treacherous sand.

Expensive, but the Middle Eastern Federation's best weapon against Britannia. So far, only ten were built, but those ten were about to turn the tide of the Battle for Riyadh.

Inside the Command Bamides, Lieutenant Fahid Mohammad analyzed the HUD as firing solutions quickly leaped onto the screen, a wave of red reticules following a scattered group of green. Mushir Hossain was making good time, delaying the Britannian advance with timed explosions from … Well, noble sacrifices at appropriate times makes for an effective defense. He turned to his fire coordinator.

"[Synchronize fire to fall when all advancing Britannian armor are within effective range. Mushir Hossain should be safe from our fire, at the rate his men are moving.]"

"[Lieutenant …]"

"[Yes, Advisor?]"

A man garbed in a simple black robe approached the lieutenant. He was an "Advisor" from one of the sheiks, a personal magus sent to assist on the war front. As with all mages, he made normal men nervous. Lieutenant Mohammad was the only person who knew about the Advisor's special status. He walked to a quieter corner of the Bamides, knowing that the Advisor would follow.

"[Lieutenant, our most immediate concern is the knightmare squadron that is approaching. I believe that they are Cornelia's group.]"

"[Damnit. They were supposed to be in Ceraphalm. If our information is right, our Bamides can't engage targets moving that quickly. Can you do anything about them?]"

"[Yes. The Evil Eye is upon them. But there is a more pressing matter.]"

Mohammad spat. Damn mages. "[What is it?]"

"[We are facing a particularly dangerous magus, Desthos Archibald El-Melloi. Contrary to our intelligence, reinforcement is not at work here. He is actually shifting the wind and fluids arouns Britannian armor to block our men's fire.]"

"[Can you do anything about him?]"

"[I can, actually. It will take some time, though. Buy me that, and I can destroy both the Britannians and the magus.]"

"[We cannot afford to lose this, Advisor. If the opportunity arises, we will strike to win, magecraft or not.]"

"[I understand.]"

The Bamides squadron drew closer to the kill zone and floated silently on the dune. Finally, the last red dot entered the ring representing the effective firing range of the Bamides, six kilometers away.

The 150mm cannons raised above from their cradles. A sheet of fire engulfed the HUDs of the Bamides for a second, then vanished, revealing a spiraling circle in the middle shrinking quickly. The roars of the explosions could be heard even at that distance.

The Desert Lions had spoken.

* * *

><p>The Britannian tanks spearheaded the charge, finally out in the open and quickly gaining ground on Mushir Mohammad's men. Then, the first and second salvoes arrived from the Bamides.<p>

Red tracer tracked the projectiles' paths. The rounds flattened themselves onto enemy tanks, remaining that way for a moment until they exploded. Smoke and sand spun as the rounds detonated. Britannian soldiers were caught by the shockwaves and fire, thrown into the sand and torn to shreds. Plumes of flames and sand leapt up into the air. The black smoke from the rounds surrounded the Britannian forces, and hope flooded into the MEF forces. However, the smoke swirled, and the Britannian tanks burst through, engines screaming and whining in protest of the overdrive.

A current of panic swept through the retreating MEF forces. Britannian tank shells tossed bodies into the air. A MEF tank's turret helicoptered into the air, then exploded in blaze of detonated ammunition shells. Supersonic shrapnel ricocheted off of armor and tore into the dwindling ranks of the MEF. A single MEF soldier cowered on the ground, head in his hands. This image succinctly captured the emotions of those soldiers, whose reinforcements had failed them. A primal feeling surged across the battlefield. What could stop these invincible, monstrous hulks? Apparently nothing.

Until the next salvo hit.

* * *

><p>Blasts of wind, stinging sand, and fire. Steel shards. A shockwave of air, followed by consuming conflagrations. And the screams of Britannians.<p>

* * *

><p>"Milady Cornelia! Enemy reinforcements-"<p>

Cornelia gritted her teeth. Round after heavy round slammed into her armored brigade, obliterating each tank with every salvo. She couldn't blame the Archibald sent here. Already, he was too exhausted to keep up the protection of her units. He was able to stop the first and second salvos, but had to disassociate himself from the wind around the armor to keep himself alive. And her tanks suffered.

She had made a tactical mistake by relying on the magus to protect her regulars. Her strike force, the modified Sutherlands, was headed for Riyadh herself. After realizing the presence of the Bamides, she scrambled her Gloucesters to intercept and continued on to Riyadh alone.

_They would be able to handle those cheap copies._

She gritted her teeth again. This damn campaign was taking too long.

* * *

><p>"Shoddy oversized imitation knightmares!" Darlton swore at those metal beasts. Their firepower was impressive, to be sure. He swiveled left, then right as shells dug into the sand where he was moments ago. His Gloucester whirred and hummed, its Yggdrasil Drive increasing revolutions as its ME Boost kicked in. His fellow pilots were making good progress towards the Bamides, already halving the distance between them.<p>

On his left, Guilford dodged a bracket of long-range autocannon fire. Guilford grimaced, muttering "They would have done well to surrender in the first place …" under his breath. The truth was, the Gloucesters were having a difficult time evading the volleys. They tried to flank the Bamides, but over a distance of five kilometers, such an effort was futile.

"Blast it!" Darlton's scar contorted in frustration as he barely missed maneuvering into a shot, distracted by the comm channel opened by a corporal at the front of the spearhead. "What the hell is it, Williams?"

"There's some sort of visual interference coming up! I can't see a damn-"

Darlton caught a flash of red, the tinkling of shrapnel almost being drowned out by the screech of static. Another channel opened.

"Guilford? What is it?"

"General, there's some sort of sand movement approaching our position. We're going to lose visibility soon."

"That's impossible. Ops said that the wind speed would be zero!"

Famous last words as the shriek of a Class Ten sandstorm swept into Cornelia's finest. The Gloucesters were trapped in a tempest of sand and shells. On each and every member's minds were focused on one thing. _We live only to serve, Cornelia. Forgive our failure._

* * *

><p>Cornelia pulled up Odysseus on the communications channel.<p>

"Brother, I-" She choked on her pride. "Brother, I need your help."

"But sister, I am only here to observe-"

"Dammit, Odysseus! My men are dying out there! This sandstorm isn't natural. Get your man over there now!"

"But-"

A tall, imposing man walked over. His old-fashioned duster covered most of his body, but what could be seen was curious. His hair looked like something from the Victorian era, a curled white wig that hung tightly to his head. A tricorn hat was positioned stiffly on top, accentuating the Romantic-Era wear. Contrasting sharply were the cavalry saber and the Britannian rifle that were slung on both sides, the saber on his hip, and the rifle over his shoulder. He carried himself like a man in command. However, there was a feeling of humility about him, like that of a commander who realized the valuable lesson of defeat.

He spoke. "Master, we must fight. Brave men are dying. It is their freedom to die, but it is our obligation to save them. Nothing is a greater stranger to my breast, or a sin that my soul more abhors, than that black and detestable one, ingratitude."

"If you say so, Rider. I wish we could have just talked it out with them. I'm sure that with a bit of conversation-"

"As do I. However, there comes a time where negotiations simply do not suffice."

"I understand, Rider. Let us depart."

* * *

><p>"[Lieutenant Mohammad! We're reading an enemy signature approaching our position. Shall we engage?]"<p>

The lieutenant turned from the HUD. He was enjoying the luxury of shelling the helpless opponent trapped in his Advisor's sandstorm. He sighed. "[It's nothing to worry too much about. We can start bombarding it when it is within three kilometers-]"

"[We just lost Bamides Six!]"

"[What?]" The enemy blip had jumped a good kilo in three seconds. It was now four kilos away, but there was no conceivable way that it could engage the longer-ranged Bamides. It was a simple M-1 Charles. All it had was a 120mm gun, and a coaxial machine gun.

He turned to his Advisor. "[Is there anything special about that approaching tank?]"

The Advisor closed his eyes for a moment, and then blanched. "[I cannot believe it. They actually-]" He interrupted himself, looking the lieutenant in the eyes. "[Focus all of your firepower on that vehi-]"

"[Bamides 2 has lost its main gun!]" A panicked officer stared, wide-eyed, at the unassuming tank that was running circles around the Bamides."[What do we do, lieutenant?]"

"[Engage with all guns, now!]" The lieutenant turned back to his Advisor. "[What is that?]"

"[Something I have to take care of, Allah help me. I must fight it with my djinni.]"

"[So that was the cause of the sandstorm. We have to destroy the more immediate threat.]"

"[Yes.]" Already, the Advisor was walking away, rolling up his sleeves to reveal summoning marks covering his arms. "[May Allah look upon us favorably.]"

* * *

><p>Odysseus tapped his foot nervously. The "Gentle Giant" of Britannia, as he was called by some of the more gracious members of Britannia's nobility, Odysseus Eu Britannia lacked the propensity for war that his siblings possessed. He would have peacefully became Emperor when his time came without seeing a single battle if it were not for the arrival of his Servant. And now, here he was, contributing to the glory of Britannia in a rocketing tank that spat out shells imbued with prana.<p>

He was surprised when his father brought him to a summoning circle.

He was shocked when the intricate Command Seals were engraved into his left forearm.

And he fainted when an imposing man appeared amidst smoke and lightning, in old-fashioned wear and a blade drawn.

A crash course in magecraft introduced him to a world of prana. Strangely enough, he actually took to it quickly-

"Master, we have an enemy mage coming in the lead Bamides. He's accompanied by some being of magical origin."

"I know. It's a djinni." He began heading towards the exit hatch, nodding at the gunner/driver crew who switched roles with Rider when he took over one system, leaving the other system in their hands. He focused his mind. _Sand. What can I do with sand?_

* * *

><p>The smoking wrecks of Bamides and the black, oily stains on the sky and the sand set an appropriate battleground for the confrontation between the greatest examples of true magic. The lone Britannian tank continued advancing, a force of sand sweeping in to envelop it.<p>

Rider stood on the turret, blade ready and pointed at the swirling, ten-meter tall outline of the djinni. Smoke and sand comprised its body, and a pair of eyes, eyes of flames, stared at Rider. What appeared to be a wall of moving sand were actually the hands for the djinni, ready to crush and shred. Multitudinous movements of the grains, in patterns both beautiful and mystifying, would have confounded any man. The djinni moved in, its hands completely swallowing the tank.

A Conflagration slammed into the hands, fusing them together as sheets of glass.

Rider just smiled, and brought his sword downwards onto the sand. The curved cavalry blade bit back into the now-corporeal substance, parting it easily with sparks and hisses. The sheer amount of prana that Rider could bring to bear completely overwhelmed the present defenses of the djinni, and it was forced to pull back.

Rider pressed the attack. He leapt, the trench coat billowing out to reveal a beautiful military jacket of naval blues and gold tassels. A pistol was drawn, an old engraved flintlock that would have never worked in the circumstances. He fired it, the crack of the shot actually overwhelming the reverberations of the howling sand cage.

Again, the amount of prana packed in the bullet literally shoved the semi-corporeal being back with its existence. Rider's power simply was greater than that of the djinni's.

Normally, conflicts between beings of magecraft and magic were not determined by sheer power, but the logical basis of their existence. In this instance, the summoning of a legendary, epic hero into this world was just as likely as the calling of an embodiment of sand, smoke, and fire. In this instance, power determined the outcome. The keening wail of the djinni testified to the determination of whose power was greater.

It realized that this was not a foe to be trifled with. The howl of the sandstorm, the sparking of prana as the sand particles ate away at the tank, the entire essence of the djinni engulfed the battlefield. This was its home. This was where it was strongest. It would not let some foreign spirit deprive it of its free will. It drew itself to its full height, enveloping the sky in an ocean of sand. Then, it roared.

All of its posturing was for naught. The tank finally burst out of the sandstorm, behind the djinni. The strategy was quite simple. Keep advancing, hold the djinni at bay, destroy the summoner.

The djinni could not turn around that easily. It had already focused its power on bombarding the area in front of it with the might of the desert.

Odysseus had an unreadable expression on his face. His circuits were ready, and he scorched the sand underneath the Bamides with another Conflagration, turning it to glass and holding them in place.

"It worked …" The gunner of the tank allowed himself a moment to get over the indescribable experience of travelling through a living sandstorm. Then, he realigned his sights and fired at the command Bamides.

The tank and the Bamides were separated by a scant kilometer. There was no way in hell that the gunner could miss with the round boosted by prana.

The explosion and shattered glass that resulted was dwarfed by the death of the djinni. By destroying the summoner, the release of the contract that the Arabian magus had with the spirit of sand and fire was violently torn asunder. The force of the dissipated magic rebounded on the djinni. Wailing sand flew from the "body" of the djinni, and swaths of fire bit at Bamides, trapped knightmares, and the tank alike. The sky looked like a swirling mass of malevolence, an eerie mix of grains and burning streaks.

The storm decreased gradually in intensity, and Rider took advantage of this to take control of the tank's gun and destroy the last remnants of the Bamides squadron. Their destruction mirrored the flaming wreck that blazed behind them. Cornelia's custom Gloucester stood in the middle of the newly created ruins, her lance imperiously embedded in a building.

A communications channel was established between the tank and the Gloucester.

"Odysseus, I cannot express my gratitude. You saved the lives of my men." Cornelia smiled, one of the rare times she ever expressed happiness.

Odysseus and Rider both looked grim. Rider spoke. "Unfortunately, our victory will not be celebrated. The Crown just called us to Area Eleven. They say its urgency surpasses this campaign."

Cornelia checked her transmissions. There was a message from-

"The Emperor?"

"Yes, sister." This time, Odysseus spoke. He seemed shell-shoked.

She read through the message. It called both Cornelia and Odysseus to the colony, with top-priority clearance and nothing else included. She frowned.

"We have to consolidate our holdings! This is not how a campaign is to be conducted! I-"

"Sister, are you questioning our father?"

Cornelia paused at this. Her reply was curt and hostile.

"I am. If this turns out to be a fool's errand based on some whim, he and I will have words. And by my lance and the lances of my men, there will be hell to pay."

"And if it isn't, Cornelia?"

"Hell will still have its due, then."

* * *

><p>10 August 2017 a.t.b., 2112 hours<p>

Route 2 from Shinjuku District to Ashford Estate, Area 11

* * *

><p>She felt quite warm in his arms. Even with all of her armor, the weight didn't fatigue Shirou. Saber had closed her eyes, and appeared to have fallen asleep after the entire ordeal. Her head leaned on his chest, exerting a gentle pressure.<p>

_So she's my Servant. But … why me? She's exhausted after that chaos. What am I supposed to do as a "Master?" I have no idea what that even-_

Instantly, his mind was filled with distinctly erotic images, images he almost immediately dispelled out of his mind. Servant? Master? Good, moral heroes of justice do not think of … that.

Saber stirred as he unintentionally clutched her tighter. She looked into Shirou's eyes barely illuminated by the streetlights in the night, on the highway. Nothing was said, no action was taken as Shirou kept walking. They both kept their gaze upon each other. Finally, the silence was interrupted by Saber.

"Thank you. Now, I understand what you meant by protecting me." Saber looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I am- I am grateful."

"It wasn't too difficult." Shirou looked up at the lights, hoping Saber wouldn't see his flushed face. "I just realized that I- I'm a Britannian, and … Well, I can use that."

Saber gave him a puzzled look. "How do you 'just realize' your nationality?"

Confident that the blood in his face returned to the rest of his body, Shirou looked back at Saber. "Well, it's- it's complex.

"My father did some work with the Britannian government during the Pacific War. He never mentioned what, but I can guess what he did. It was unusual for a Japanese citizen to work with the Britannians, and they rewarded him well for it. They made him an Honorary Britannian, and determined that I was 'at least' half-Britannian. That was enough to recognize me as a pending Britannian citizen and as an Honorary Britannian citizen in the meantime, with my father's deeds 'appreciated' by the government.

"A part of me- a part of me hates him for it.

"My father was Japanese. My lineage was deemed 'Britannian enough.' He betrayed his country for my sake. And now, I had to use that to help us escape."

He looked away in discomfort. "I'm sorry for burdening you with my troubles …"

"So, your father …"

"He's not my biological father."

"I see." With that, Saber and Shirou returned to the silence present moments ago. It allowed them to contemplate their surroundings. Shirou was familiar with the two sides that the highway split. For Saber, the discrepancy between the Britannian and Eleven domains was starkly evident and shocking. On the Britannian side, dark outlines of beautiful apartments, of glass and steel, could be made out. It was, for a knight of times bygone, mystical and wondrous architecture. But on the Eleven side, the crooked lines of crumbling buildings felt like hell. Hell isn't always fire and darkness. The ruins and absolute despair can capture hell's essence on earth just as well.

Shirou broke the silence before it could become awkward.

"Saber, why did you call me 'Master' back there?"

Saber remained silent, an unreadable expression on her face. _What should I say? How much may I reveal? If he truly never heard of the Holy Grail, then my task will be made all the more difficult._

She spoke abruptly.

"Shirou, how much do you know about the Holy Grail Wars?

His expression of confusion confirmed her fears. "The Holy Grail? Isn't that something from Christianity?"

Saber sighed.

"The Holy Grail War is a literal war between seven pairs of competitors. It is a war for survival, a war to the death that masks itself as a ritual. This fight will not end until six pairs of Master and Servant are eliminated, and the remnant pair collects the Holy Grail. The Grail itself is not the Christ's Grail, but a sort of pathway to a greater power. At some point in time, the Grail activates, calling forth heroes graced with the powers of their legends to compete in the war, as Servants to operate under the control of a Master."

Saber watched her Master's demeanor grow more and more concerned as she spoke. His question reflected this. "Why?"

She looked straight at Shirou. "The Grail can fulfill any wish that the victors desire. The sheer power of the contestants and the invaluable prize at the end of the War are the main reasons why the War is so dangerous. Both Masters and Servants will do anything to receive the blessing of the Grail.

"To limit the collateral damage, Servants are bonded to Masters. All Masters have some sort of magical ancestry. To … maintain control over their Servants, Masters are given three Command Seals, which, when an order is given, will absolutely compel their Servants to fulfill that command regardless of what that command is." Here, Saber's expression darkened.

"The reason why these Command Seals are so valuable is because they maintain your status as a Master. Command Seals also enable Servants to act beyond their powers, which is an unparalleled advantage in combat. By wasting one on that …" And here, Saber looked away. "On that foolish, impulsive order, we lost a weapon we could have used to win."

"… Then I'm sorry. Now, I understand why you were so upset." Shirou tensed. "You said that Masters and Servants are willing to do anything to win. Does that include innocent people?

"Unfortunately, yes. Most Servants are heroes, and act accordingly to their nature. However, there are Masters and Servants who are not as noble, and have sacrificed many to win the Grail."

"What I don't understand is why anyone would be willing to risk their lives, and the lives of others, for a magic cup."

Saber turned her head to look at Shirou in slight surprise. "You have nothing you desire for with all of your heart, a wish that you would die for?"

Shirou shook his head. "I don't have anything to wish for. If innocent people are being hurt, then there is only one thing for me to do. I want nothing to do with this Grail, even if I am a Master. However, I will fight to keep innocent people from getting caught up in this mess.

"I guess … I do have a wish. I want to be a hero. A champion of justice, someone who fights for the benefit of others rather than myself. If the safety of innocent people is threatened, I will protect them. But I don't want to use the Grail to become a hero. I want to earn it myself."

"That is an honorable plan." _He is a fool, but a fool with good intentions. Certainly, he is worthy to fight by my side._ "If that is what shall please you, then I shall follow your orders."

"About my orders, Saber." Saber cocked her head, then realized what Shirou was talking about. She looked away again.

"I thought I saw you draw your weapon when we were approaching those Britannians. When you collapsed, I was- I was worried. Why did you collapse? Was it-"

"I fainted. I did not know what you were planning, and I thought you were going to fight those soldiers by yourself. Your protection comes before all else."

"Why did you faint?" They passed beneath a streetlight, illuminating Shirou's concerned face.

"When a Master uses a Command Seal, a Servant must obey it. The more specific the command, the stronger the effect, and the greater the compulsion to obey. To disobey would result in tremendous pain for a Servant. That is why I fainted." Saber's voice shook faintly. What caused the tremor? Shame? Shirou approached the subject with surprising tact.

"So you knew that it would hurt, but you still went ahead and drew your sword anyway?"

"Yes. At the moment, your protection mattered more than my own well-being. I did not think that-"

"It's alright."

Saber, once again, expressed surprise, eyes locked with Shirou's. "No, it is not! I failed you as your guardian. I should have trusted you."

"Saber, look. It isn't your fault. I should've explained my plan to you. Just … as much as you want to protect me, I want to protect you. If we're in this together, we both have to stay alive." He tightened his grip on Saber.

"I know that I'm not as strong as you. I'll probably hinder you. But I've said it before. I'll be damned if I let you carry all of the burden that I'll put on you."

They both fell silent. Their outbursts left them drained, and both were content to feels the alternating beams of light and darkness as they reached the final stretches of highway before Ashford Academy. It was then that Saber spoke, just realizing where exactly she was.

"Shirou?"

"Yeah?"

"I am- I am capable of walking on my own now."

"R-Right."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I feel awful for making all of you wait. Working at a research corporation really doesn't allow much time for writing. I've tried to make up for it with a super chapter (with action and exposition, oh my), as well as that special gift I mentioned. It's not too much, but it did take some thinking and learning on GIMP. It's a logo for F/NA. Just take the link, eliminate the spaces, and hit enter.

http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ art/ Fate-Nightmare-Apatheia-Logo1-215268602

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I am going to edit the previous chapters a bit, and work on a wallpaper

Read and review, undeserving though I am. Thank you for your time. Again, my deepest apologies for making you wait.


	8. Classmate Fabrication

July 5 2017 a.t.b.

Euro Universe Debriefing on Britannia's Military

Britannia's military is the most powerful of the world, numerically and technologically superior to any one nation. Currently, estimates of their military count 10 million active soldiers of their 1.4 billion population, with a reserve of 2 million. The deployment of the first knightmare frames in Japan would have led to a decrease in these numbers, but with the destruction of Mount Fuji, the sakuradite necessary to fuel knightmare frames was reduced dramatically. It is estimated that only 40% of the original amount of sakuradite in the world remains. Despite this, Britannia still has continued production of knightmare frames at an alarming rate, at approximately 50 frames a day. These frames complement several scores of armored battalions, acting as shock armor.

A special note must be made about Britannian armored forces. As seen from the Pacific Incident, Britannia has placed significant emphasis on fluid, rapid armor tactics supported by infantry. This would not normally be effective, but analysts suspect that Britannia has been preparing its military for a decade to perfect its integration of armor and infantry, culminating this with the knightmare frame. The total numbers of the Britannian armor cannot be determined, but from observations of Britannian campaigns, roughly 4 battalions of tanks, 4 battalions of armored personnel carriers, and a squadron of knightmare frames are integrated with 10 infantry divisions.

With the obsolescence of aircraft through Sakuradite Disturbers, the only effective way to engage Britannian forces is through artillery bombardment, urban warfare, magecraft, or sacraments. The latter two are the most effective, but difficult to acquire. The Magus Association and the Church are officially nonparticipants in "affairs of the nations." However, the Magus Association backs Britannian forces with "rogue" mages, knowing that a magus can easily declare himself independent of the Association, whereas declaring independence from the Church is an act of heresy for a Priest or an Agent.

The options available to the Euro Universe are limited. Britannia has not invaded because it has its hands full from consolidating Japan and invading Africa and the Middle East. Acting now is preferable than acting later, because Britannia is growing stronger with each day.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 7:<span> Classmate Fabrication

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 0105 hours

* * *

><p>A glimpse of the road.<p>

A panicked call.

"Lelouch? Lelouch! Hang in there, buddy!"

_Rivalz? I'm alright._

Then-

"He'll be alright."

"Wait a minute! Who are you-"

Fade.

"Master Lelouch! What happened?" _That's Sayoko._

"It's nothing much. You don't have to worry about it."

"Now, just who exactly are you?"

"I already told you. You don't have to worry."

Fade.

"So, Lelouch. You're awake."

He was, but everything seemed so dark. Little flashes of light appeared in his vision, but he couldn't pierce through the darkness. His body was exhausted, but his mind was sharp. With a final, strenuous effort, he opened his eyes.

Lelouch found himself staring at the ceiling of his room. He tried to sit up, but that proved to be too strenuous for him. Instead, he propped himself up with his arms, and leaned on the back of the bed.

The smell of pizza hit him full force. He turned towards its origin.

A girl in a black t-shirt and jeans sat in the seat at his study table. She was quietly munching on a slice of pizza, next to six empty boxes stacked on top of his books. Her green hair was tied back in a short ponytail, wet from the shower she had apparently taken recently.

"I was hoping that you'd wake up soon. You snore like a thunderstorm given life."

And now she was giving him lip. "You know, after all of the accommodations you've availed yourself to, you could at least be grateful."

"You should be grateful to me. After we got here, I had to use my powers on that dull boy, several guards, and a maid to get you in here. That was a hassle."

"Well, who saved who? If I remember correctly, you- Wait." Lelouch's brow furrowed in thought. "Powers?"

"You're welcome." C.C. smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It looked pretty, but that didn't matter. It was the smile of one who was hiding pain.

"It's not nice to judge. Well, I guess I have to explain some stuff to you, dim and insulting as you are. If you are to fulfill our contract, you have to stay alive." She stopped, taking another slice.

"Most people see one world, one of science and rationality. A few know that two exist, the second being affected by the presence of magecraft and magic. My being as an Immortal stems from the Akashic Root, a third world. I think you've already deduced that I'm an Immortal. We are from this third world, which is not entirely different from the second. My captors theorized that prana, the fuel for magic, originates from this third world, even saying that Akasha, the third world, is _the_ World, the basis of all living beings." She sighed as she realized that only a few slices remained. "I'm pretty sure all I'm doing is getting you confused.

"I don't particularly care. What matters is that our powers bypass all others. Your Power of the Kings, the Geass I gave you, is a powerful one. So, Lelouch. What are you going to do with my gift?"

Lelouch remained quiet. Annoying and sardonic this girl may be, the power she gave, as well as her abilities, were a godsend. This could accelerate his plan.

"Ah, so you do have a plan. There's a brain inside of that head of yours? What a surprise. You might actually be entertaining. Now go wash my jacket." She pointed at the strewn clothes from her Britannian captors on the floor.

"What- I am not your-"

"Would you rather have your sister see me, in your clothes, washing them?"

That struck a nerve with Lelouch. Not one of anger, but of sadness. "She wouldn't be able to tell. She's blind."

"I'm sorry. Still, you're washing them."

Lelouch sighed. "Fine." He painfully got up. He realized something. _I never asked what her name-_

"C.C. is my name. It's not a code name. It's all I am." Lelouch turned sharply to look at C.C.. Her expression was unchanged, but something was off.

"Don't worry about me. Just go wash that jacket."

When he returned, he found C.C. on his computer. "What are you looking for?"

"Information on Immortals." She was surprisingly focused, scanning articles rapidly.

"What exactly-"

"We can't die. It's not that simple, but that is our main power. We can create contracts with normal humans, giving them Geasses in return for a guarantee on their part. We can create," and here she air-quoted with her fingers, "'psychometric interference' within a human's brain. And apparently, I can hear bits and pieces of whatever's on the surface of that brain of yours."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like that doesn't usually happen."

"It doesn't. I'd imagine that it came with training. I certainly couldn't do it with any of my other contractees."

"Training? You had to practice immortality?"

"Yes. I learned the depths of the human condition from human will, using Alaya's-" She touched Lelouch's hand, and he felt a wave of pain, revulsion, and hate ripple through him. He saw just one of the hells she experienced, visited upon her by Alaya, the very counterforce of humanity's will to live. "-gift. So there's no need to wax sarcasm at my Code."

He breathed heavily, trying to recover from that momentary vision. "I'm- I'm sorry."

C.C. read an actual, sincere feeling from her contractee. She was … surprised. But before she could dwell on it, Lelouch returned to business.

"So, what is my Geass? It seems that I could control those soldiers without resistance. I need to know the full specs of my weapon, if I am to use it."

"I don't know."

"What?" Lelouch was surprised. She was the one who gave him this power. She should-

"The Geass given is determined by the recipient's desires, not by the will of the Immortal. So I have no idea."

Lelouch sighed. This is going to be a long night.

"Why?" C.C. got up and laid on the bed.

"I need to revise my plans. And you cannot sleep in my bed."

C.C. ignored him, snuggling deeper into the covers.

"I said-"

"Goodnight, Lelouch."

He shook his head. _It's amazing that she's part of the most infamous force in Britannia. Let's see … What should I designate her as?_

_Ah, I know._

_Q1._

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 0527 hours<p>

Ashford Academy, Area 11

* * *

><p>Shirou awoke. He felt completely sore, a testament to the strenuous activities of the day before. At least he was in a soft bed. He would have just stayed underneath the covers until the afternoon, but something cool and hard was touching his leg.<p>

Shirou turned on his side, and met the gaze of Saber lying by him.

He was on the floor in seconds, gaping and stuttering at the fairly serene, and now perplexed, girl in full armor.

"Are you alright, Shirou?" Saber sat up, her armor clinking lightly. She pushed the covers off and sat on the side of the bed, steel-clad feet dangling over the side.

"What- What-" Shirou stood as he struggled to get the words out, still tongue-tied at the- at the immodesty of it all. He looked down, and was relieved to see that he still had his uniform from yesterday.

Saber raised a bemused eyebrow. "What is it?"

"What-"

There was another clink as Saber slid off of the bed and stood at attention. "I await your orders, Shirou."

"What- What-"

"English, Shirou. Speak it."

He took a deep breath. "_What_ were you doing in my bed?"

"I was protecting you."

Shirou's legs almost gave out. He was completely shocked that a girl of such- of such decorum would be so indecent. She was completely unfazed, as if it was completely acceptable for a girl to sleep with a guy after only meeting him a day ago. He was able to collect himself before expressing his anger.

"Saber, it's not- it's not right for you to- to- to share a bed with me." He sighed. The very thought of it appalled him.

Now, Saber looked less bemused and more confused. "Why not? In my time, common practice was to keep trusted knights beside their charges. Hiding underneath those sheets is the best way to surprise assassins."

"But-" Shirou paused, hesitant. "It's-" He stopped again.

"What's wrong, Shirou? I will do anything in my power to remedy the issue." Genuine concern could be heard in Saber's voice, which made Shirou feel all the worse for what he was going to say.

"Saber, it's because you're- you're a girl." Immediately, he felt himself flush. He turned his head, expecting to be slapped. A sharp intake of breath from Saber indicated the fulfillment of this fear in seconds. But …

Nothing came. There wasn't any angry, retaliatory retort from a gauntleted hand. Shirou looked back at Saber, and it was guilt that convicted him, hitting harder than any blow she could have given. Saber's gaze was directed at the ground, her blonde bangs obscuring her eyes. Her shoulders and arms were pulled inwards, her entire body tense and compact. _She looks so small. Is she- Is she trembling?_

"I see. So it is my sex that is interfering with my duties yet again." Saber suddenly looked at Shirou, her demeanor melancholy. "You are truly an honorable man, and I cannot hold this against you. However …"

Saber shook her head, and looked away. "I had hoped that you would see beyond my- my failings. I am your Servant. As a Servant and a knight, my duties are to ensure your protection first and foremost. To find that I am incapable and unworthy of answering that call because of an unchangeable aspect of me is-"

Her words were frozen in her mouth as Shirou grabbed her shoulders, the cloth on the pads pressing down with his fingers. She turned her head to face him, and found his gaze aimed directly at hers. He spoke. "Saber, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I just was surprised to find-" He flushed again. "-to find you next to me. I feel pretty strongly about these things."

He searched through his head for alternatives. _There has to be something that will satisfy her desire to sleep with me- Crap. That sounded wrong. What should I do? What can I say?_

"I guess- I guess it would be alright if we shared the same room." _I'm not too happy with that, but it's the best way to allow her to stay with me._ "Just don't do that again."

Saber relaxed. "Very well. I must ask, though. Is this truly your home?"

"Of course-" He looked around, and then realized that he was in Ashford Academy. "What-"

His memories of yesterday ended with talking to a guard at Ashford and entering the guest rooms. After that, there was nothing.

"Saber, this isn't my home. What happened after we got into Ashford?"

"You fell asleep. I decided to let you slumber. That rag you gave me was … unpleasant, so I used the baths to cleanse myself."

"Alright …" Shirou took another look around. "Saber, this is the boy's dorm!"

"You are the one who brought me here, Shirou."

Shirou had to sit down. He held his head in his hands. Now that he thought about it, he did remember foggily walking with Saber into the boy's guest dormitory. He groaned.

"Are you all right, Shirou?" Saber was becoming more and more bewildered at Shirou's apparent mood swings.

"It's nothing. Nothing at all."

He checked the time. "It's almost time for classes. Saber-" _What was he to do with an armored girl? She couldn't just go to the Academy with him._ He made up his mind. "Saber, I'm going to have to ask you to stay in here."

Saber's jawline hardened. "You know that is impossible, Shirou. I must be with you at all times."

"I can't have someone in armor following me around. You'd attract way too much attention."

"So be it. As long as you are protected, I will disregard all spectators."

"It's not about that. If we're in this Grail War, I don't want anyone getting hurt because the other Servants see us."

Saber quieted at this. "Then what would you have me do? Without me, you are vulnerable."

_That's true. And if something does happen, Saber is the most capable person to handle a threat to innocents as well._ Shirou sighed. _I need some fresh air._

"Saber, I need to step outside for a little while. I won't be long, I promise."

"I take it that you need some time to think?"

"Yeah."

"Then I shall wait for ten minutes. If you do not return, I will retrieve you."

_Ten minutes? Retrieve me?_ "Alright. Make yourself comfortable."

Shirou left, closing the door quickly behind him. He started walking, enjoying the scent of new dew on the grass.

_What should I do? Saber should stay with me. That'd be the best thing for her. But how do I get an unknown girl to be enrolled here? She certainly carries herself like nobility, so she'd fit in. The only problem is creating enough credentials so she would be admitted. Unless-_

He stopped, finding himself in front of the Ashford residence. _That's it._

He took out his phone and called a number.

"Milly? I need some help."

* * *

><p>Saber sat on the bed, watching the sky burn from red to blue. Her mind was elsewhere.<p>

_Shirou. I am confused about him. He is nothing like Kiritsugu, but they share the same last name. Is it truly possible that they are of the same blood? Perhaps- If he was my master in the last War, I would have been able to acquire the Grail. Indeed, if a certain knight had his honor, I might have been able to retain my kingdom._

_She frowned. Enough about the past. This time, I have another chance to obtain the Grain. I need to see how competent a magus Shirou is. I still possess all of my prana, but with further battles, Shirou must replenish my power. If he can't-_

The door opened, one minute short of the ten minute deadline. She turned her head.

A tall, buxom blonde walked in, followed by Shirou. Both were taken aback by the radiant being sitting in front of them. The morning light touched the girl lightly, creating an aura of soft warmth. She wore a blue gown highlighted with gold, a white dress underneath that was visible between the vested corset and bust. Completely regal in appearance, she observed the two with unreadable eyes.

Shirou gaped. _She looks like a princess. With all of that armor on, it's hard to tell her status just looking at her. But with this, it's impossible to doubt her upbringing._ He, after several attempts, was able to find his voice.

"Milly, this is the girl I was talking about, from the Aylwin family. She's been exiled from the homeland for political reasons. She needs a place to stay for a while." _Saber, do you see what I'm getting at?_

Saber just kept returning their gazes.

Milly was still staring at the girl. "Uh- Um, it's nice to meet you, miss-?"

"It used to be Lady Arturia eu Aylwin, of the Duchy of New Wales. I was accustomed to being addressed to as 'Milady,' but …" Saber bowed her head, but Shirou caught a flash of understanding. He inwardly sighed with relief.

"A-ah, Milady. It's-"

"Please. My title is no more. I simply go by my moniker, Saber. It is a pleasure to meet you, Milly."

"You- you too, Saber. I think we'll be able to accommodate you for as long as you like." Milly finally was able to take her eyes off of Saber, and addressed Shirou. "I'll be able to send up a uniform in a few minutes. Can we just talk outside for a moment?"

"Sure. Saber, just give us a minute."

"Alright, Shirou."

Milly and Shirou stepped outside. As soon as Milly closed the door, she squealed and hugged Shirou.

"I can't believe it! You actually were able to seduce a girl! And I have to say, a fine, high-class one at that. So tell me. How'd you get her into your room? Is she good in bed? No, don't tell me. I'll save that bit of gossip for later. A mysterious girl, noble in stature, enters the campus at the behest of her beloved. Of course, I'll leave out all the sensitive stuff. This is going to be great! I'll talk to you later, Shirou! I'll let you two naughty creatures a bit of time to yourself!" Milly talked so quickly that Shirou barely fit a word in. And like that, she was gone.

"Milly- What-" Shirou just placed his palm on his face._ At least Saber can attend Ashford with me._

He decided to heed Milly's advice and take some time back in the room.

As he opened the door, Saber looked at him curiously. "So how did negotiations go?"

"They were pretty good. I'm glad you caught on to my plan." It was his turn to look at Saber curiously. "You caught on pretty fast. The scandal just came out a few days ago."

"A suspicion based on past actions. The Aylwins are loyal, but they have a penchant for imprudence."

"Um, alright …" Shirou decided not to press any further into the matter. "You'll be able to go to classes with me after you get your uniform. Is that good?"

"Very." Saber looked content, crossing her legs. This was the first time she was so relaxed.

"I'm glad you're happy." Shirou started heading towards the door. "I just need to take care of some-"

"Shirou." There was a note of urgency in Saber's voice.

"Yes?" Shirou turned back to face Saber. He held his breath in the silence. Then-

"Thank you."

She smiled.

It was genuine, pure.

Shirou was still for a moment, and then turned his head, coughing in a vain attempt to hide his flushed face. Saber cocked her head, puzzled.

"Are you alright, Shirou?"

"It's nothing."

_Now that I think about it, Saber's actually a really pretty girl. All of that nobility, and yet she's so small, so petite. It's kinda cute. I can't describe it, but … When she smiles, I can't see her as my Servant. Just my Servant. Not that type- Hero of Justice. Hero of Justice. That's not a heroic thought._

Before Shirou's active imagination created further un-hero-of-justice thoughts, someone knocked on the door. Shirou answered it.

"Uniforms for the young lady, sir." It was Milly's butler, who appeared (in a discreet, butler-ish fashion) to be scandalized by the whole matter.

"Th-thank you." As soon as the uniforms were passed from his hands to Shirou's, the butler fled.

"So, this is the uniform?" Saber curiously peered around Shirou's arm.

"Yeah. I'll let you have some privacy to change." Before Saber could make an argument for a more indecent course of action, Shirou hurriedly left.

He only had to wait two minutes before Saber's voice came muffled through the door. "I am done, Shirou."

When he entered, he was speechless. The beige jacket, the black miniskirt, and the thigh stockings transformed Saber from a knight to an Ashford schoolgirl. Saber looked down at her exposed legs critically.

"It bewilders me that the uniform for a lady is so revealing where it needs not be." She looked a little embarrassed as she looked back at Shirou, but managed to remain stoic about the matter. "However, if this allows me to accompany you to school, Shirou, then I will wear it."

Saber caught Shirou staring. "You seem to be looking at me often, Shirou. Are you sure there that nothing is wrong?"

Shirou shook his head, and walked towards Saber. He moved his hands to her neck. She just kept her eyes on him as he lifted the collar of her shirt and made a series of loops with the cloth around her neck.

"Your tie wasn't straight, Saber. That-that's all."

He checked the time. It was 7:15. He still had three-quarters of an hour before class.

"Saber, would you like a tour of the campus?"

Saber blinked. More and more, life did not seem like the war she prepared herself for. It was unexpected and unsettling, but … _Perhaps a little calm before the storm would be pleasant._

"Yes, Shirou. I would like that."

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 0750 hours<p>

Ashford Academy, Area 11

* * *

><p>"Saber, Shirou! It's almost time for class!" Milly ran over to the perceived couple. <em>Aw, they're taking a walk together.<em> They looked so cute, she just had to interrupt. "Saber, I brought your books. Now hurry along, I need to talk with you." And with that, she whisked Saber away, her tall, curvaceous body contrasting sharply with Saber's short, petite figure.

Before she vanished, she called out to Shirou. "I won't keep Saber long! Don't worry, I'll return your little lady to your company before class!" The exasperated expression on Shirou's face was priceless.

_Little lady?_ Saber barely had any time to think before the energetic blonde dragged her along, walking quickly through the lawns that she had just seen with Shirou. She couldn't fully appreciate them, though, because Milly was whispering in her ear.

"I got my father to create a brand new identity for you. You are now Saber Kenway, the sole daughter of the deceased Lord Kenway. He's relatively mysterious, so you can expect few questions about your past. The teacher will introduce you as such. Just make up some answers to whatever questions people might have. I gave you a seat right next to Shirou, so you two can have all of the time you'd like together in class." Milly paused, catching her breath.

"Thank- thank you." Saber was more ruffled at the rapid procession of information presented to her, but Milly took it as an adorable embarrassment from Saber's happiness being placed next to Shirou.

"I'm so glad Shirou found a girl like you. You are just so adorable! So, how far has your relationship gone?"

"I- What?"

"Well, you two were in the same room together last night, so I thought-"

Saber caught on. "We're nothing- nothing of the sort. We just have a … mutual understanding." She flushed mildly, taken aback by this forward girl.

"Oooh, I see. So that's how you two play it. Don't worry, Shirou was all clueless and hush-hush about it as well. I get it. You two make a great pair. I'll let you two decide when you want to make it official. If you want something high-profile, just tell me!"

The flush deepened on Saber's face. "There's no need for-"

"Oh, look at the time! I kept you too long. Well, I'll just give you to the teacher right now. Tell Shirou I'm deeply sorry about keeping you from him, okay?"

And with that, Milly ran off to her class, leaving a thoroughly flustered Saber next to the teacher, who was about to open the door to the full classroom. Saber took a few breaths, and was able to settle enough to regain her calm composure. The teacher turned his head downwards and gave her a kind look.

"Milly is quite energetic. Don't worry, you'll fit in well with everyone."

"I am glad that you think so."

And with that, the teacher respectfully opened the door for the noblelady.

"Class, we have a new student. She just transferred from the homeland, so I hope you'll all make her feel welcome."

The class turned to her expectantly. For a moment, she didn't understand why. And then-

"My name is Saber. Saber Kenway. It is a pleasure to meet you all."

Subconsciously, she felt a current of prana flow throughout her, a habit she had to reassure herself. Its warmth comforted her in times of stress, and returning to a public environment was stressful for Saber. The flow of prana, however, created a subtle aura of power and light around her, emphasizing her nobility and calmness to almost divine levels.

The entire room was silent, the customary applause lacking.

Finally, the teacher broke the silence. "Ah, Saber. Your seat is to the left of Shirou," he said, pointing to a seat to Shirou's right. The class's heads followed the mysterious noble as she sat next to Shirou. Even as the teacher began the history lesson, students took furtive glances at Saber.

_Who is this girl? Lord Kenway never had any children. He didn't even have a wife. He would have mentioned them to my mother when he visited the palace._ Lelouch's mind was churning furiously. No member of the nobility held themselves like that. Only royalty.

And yet, he could not place that face anywhere.

Shirou flipped through his textbook, but his attention was not entirely on the lesson. He snuck a glance at Saber beside him, who was completely focused on what the teacher was saying.

_If she is a hero from her time, then she should've never heard of this stuff. If she's a knight from the medieval ages, she probably never went to school. I'm going to have to tutor her in a lot of subjects. She seems as if she's fitting in well with a normal life. It just doesn't seem like she's part of this war. Why is she in this, anyway?_

"_Both Masters and Servants will do anything to receive the blessing of the Grail." Does this mean she has a wish as well? What can it be? Why would anyone fight in a war for a simple wish? I know that there are things worth dying for. But I've never had one, so I can't speak from experience._

He was stirred out of his thoughts by the voice of his teacher, directed at Saber. "Saber, you have something to say about the origins of Britannia on modern government?"

"I do." Shirou detected a grim note in Saber's voice. It was all but unnoticeable, but Shirou's proximity to and relationship with Saber allowed him to hear it. "A king is responsible for his people, correct?"

"Yes, Saber. Our ruler, in his benevolence, has the best interests for us."

"What would qualify for a king's removal?"

"Well, we've seen in the past that insanity and malevolence have been the cause of regicide. Various governments have been developed by people, but as seen with Britannia, the rule of a king has led to its power and success. Generally, the will of the king is the will of the people in time."

"And if the king did nothing wrong, if the king truly is acting for the good of the people, do the people still have the right to dispose of him?" The shaking in Saber's voice alarmed Shirou. She was still as enduring as ever, and yet the miniscule tremor was still there.

"People are … fickle. This is where Washington's Rebellion has influenced our government for almost two centuries. Even though a ruler is doing everything right for his people, his people may not be satisfied with his rule. An element of self-governance, as seen in our bicameral legislature, creates a balance between the wisdom of our leader and the will of the people."

"I see. And what if the people do not know what is best for them?"

"Then-" The teacher froze. This was borderline treasonous. If he expressed the correct, approved answer, he would be criticizing the House of Lords and the House of Commons. If he expressed his favor for the will of the people, he would be criticizing the king. "I'm sorry, but we have to move on. It's an interesting question, but unfortunately we do not have time-"

"Saber, are you saying that the king should have total control of his people?"

The entire class, riveted to the discussion between the teacher and the new student, turned to the back of the class. Lelouch Lamperouge was the one who spoke. His fingers intertwined, elbows on the table, and a poker face on his countenance, he was looked ready for a debate.

Saber, facing Lelouch, replied. "If the king is good and just, why should his people dispose of him?"

"People may have a different perception of 'good and just.' Who else is to judge the king's actions?"

"A king serves his people, so he cannot be held by their standards. A king should only be judged by a power greater than his."

"What, like God?"

"Yes."

Shirou felt it first. It was a wave of warmth, of regal power. He turned to look at Saber, and saw steel in her eyes. The air hazed around her, her currents of prana being tapped.

Lelouch gritted his teeth, angered at his outburst. For a moment, he almost revealed his true feelings about the matter. He smothered them, and put a smile on. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Our king has maintained his power by the forces of natural selection. Indeed, it could be said that his rule, his selection is the product of a divine force, to have been in power for so long."

Silence followed. Then, the bell rang.

* * *

><p>The rest of the class occurred without incident, except for a general subdued air about the class. Finally, classes ended as lunch began.<p>

A crowd immediately gathered around Saber.

"So are you really related to Lord Kenway?"

"What part of the homeland are you from?"

"Is Saber your real name, or your nickname?"

"Shirou! Shirou! We're going out for lunch! Bring your friend!" Milly pushed aside all of the onlookers and grabbed both Shirou and Saber's hands as she dragged them outside.

The three quickly caught up to a tall, dark-haired, handsome boy. Milly let go of Shirou's hand and whapped Lelouch's head with a rolled-up paper. "Lelouch! Quit daydreaming and say hello to our newest member of our student council!"

Lelouch smiled ruefully. "You didn't have to hit me so hard, madam president." He turned. "Isn't Shirou already on the student council?"

Shirou blinked. "Try again, Lelouch. Look down."

He did. _The possibly pretend noble._ "Ah, Saber. So, Milly decided to drag you into our council? My name's Lelouch. I'm the vice president." He offered his hand to her.

"A pleasure." Saber took it, grasping his hand firmly and shaking it.

Lelouch winced. _She's surprising strong for her size. _He looked at Saber, then at Shirou. "Do you two know each other?"

They glanced at each other. "Yes." They answered simultaneously.

"I see." _Interesting._

Before further questions could be asked about Saber, a girlish voice called out to the group. "Luluuuu! Millllyyy! Shiiiroouu! We're over heereee!"

Outside in the courtyard, a lithe, ginger-headed girl was waving at them, waiting with a blue-haired, lanky boy and a skinny brunette girl wearing glasses and pigtails.

"Oh! You're the new girl. I'm Shirley! Nice to meet you!" The ginger stood up, smiling at Saber.

Rivalz remained sitting, a grin making its way across his face. "I'm Rivalz, the secretary. If there's anything you need help with, I'm your man."

"I-I'm Nina." The black-haired girl introduced herself shyly. She flushed. "It's-It's nice to meet you." She kept looking at Saber and blushing, turning her head back down at the ground.

"A pleasure. I am Saber." Saber couldn't help but smile in response to their friendliness.

"Well, guys, now that we have the introductions over, where to? Classes are over today, so …?" Milly pulled up a basket and gave it to Shirou.

"How about Shirou's place? It's far fancier than the lunchroom," Rivalz said, grinning and slinging his arm around Shirou.

"But it's in Fuyuki …" Nina suddenly became nervous. She fidgeted and bowed her head.

"Nina, you don't have to worry about Fuyuki. It's been reformed by Britannian estate companies." A grimace crossed Shirou's face briefly, only to be replaced by the neutral expression he had before.

"Well, how about it, Shirou? We could cook some more stuff in that gigantic kitchen of yours," Shirley said.

"Since we're already walking there, I think the decision's already been made, Shirley."

"Lelouch, it's not a problem. You guys are welcome anytime you want." Shirou managed to extricate himself from Rivalz's arm, smiling faintly as Rivalz continued to wrestle with him. It was more one-sided than it seemed, since Shirou was as tall as Lelouch, and a lot stronger.

"Have I ever told you that you're too generous, Shi-" A girl, in his clothes, with a green ponytail, was pointedly looking at Lelouch. He flinched visibly. _What is she doing here?_

"Lelouch?"

"I'm sorry, I have to go for a minute. I'll meet you guys at your house, Shirou." The dignified sentence did not match the hurried speed at which Lelouch ran. Or rather, attempted to run.

"So, we're off!" With that remark, Shirley began peppering Saber with questions about her lineage, her favorite clothing stores, where she got her hair done. What was truly surprising was that Saber responded readily, making up facts on the spot. Of course, they were along the lines of vague descriptions of nobility, mansions, and servants, but Shirou was relieved.

_Perhaps this won't be so bad after all._ This erroneous though crossed Shirou's mind, the hope of an innocent before a conflict.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?"<p>

"I want to accompany you."

Lelouch and C.C. were walking rapidly outside school grounds. C.C. just kept walking, Lelouch struggling to keep up. She continued to speak.

"Something important is going to happen. I'm coming with you."

"That's preposterous, C.C.. It's just a council meeting."

"So what's the harm? I'll wear a cap, if you're worried about my hair."

In all honesty, it didn't really matter if C.C. followed him if she took the necessary precautions. So why did Lelouch have that sudden turn of his stomach, that foreboding hesitation that comes with the wariness of the future?

"Because you're being overdramatic."

He sighed. "You win. Let's go. I'm already late."

It took fifteen minutes for the bus to arrive at the transfer stop, three seconds for C.C. to nick a cap, and ten minutes to arrive at Fuyuki City.

* * *

><p>When he entered, another scene of chaos was before him. Shirley ran to him. "Lelouch! It's terrible! Look at the news!"<p>

She pulled him into the main room, where Milly, Rivalz, and Nina were engrossed with the ongoing explosions and cracks of gunfire on the television.

"-are at Shinjuku, a battlefield. Eleven extremists have begun to attack Britannian forces. Though they are merely fighting with small arms, they still are bent on the destruction of innocent Britannian life. Military advisors are telling civilians to stay indoors until the fighting ceases. More information from your trusted news source, Area Eleven's Britannian Broadcast Channel." The anchor faded out, replaced by an ad.

Lelouch examined the room. "Where's Shirou?"

"He took Saber with him, said he had to help out some friends." Shirley looked pleadingly at Lelouch. "What if he gets hurt?"

Lelouch gritted his teeth. _Always like him, to go off half-cocked and stubborn._ "I'm going to get him."

"Take us with you, buddy!" Rivalz jumped up. "We're not going to leave a member out there!"

"I can't." Lelouch shook his head. "It would be easier for all of us if only one person went. Too many people would be too obvious."

Shirley bit her lower lip, then smiled nervously. "Be careful, Lulu!"

"I will." Before anyone else could delay him, Lelouch left.

C.C. left her leaning position and walked beside Lelouch. "Back to Shinjuku?"

"Yeah."

"And you know how to get there?"

"I thought you might have something to do with that, if you're an Immortal."

C.C. laughed darkly. "You could say that." She smashed in the window of a car and unlocked the door. Sliding into the driver's seat, she opened the bottom of the steering drive, snapped the two wires, and then sparked it. The old engine started.

Lelouch stepped in. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me to hold on tight."

C.C. just gunned it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Bloody hell, writing this chapter was a pain. I'm adopting a new order to the chapters, and adding ~2000 words to each chapter to fulfill a self-imposed 5000-6000 word standard. I do apologize for the delay. I was swamped with work. I will update on Fridays and Saturdays, and the next update will arrive in two weeks, hopefully. I believe that's it.

Tactical Updates INCOMING. IT'S OVER.

**EDIT:** Some stuff changed. Times fixed, etc.

Now, to address updates:

I'm giving the previous chapters (1-5) and the two prologues a holy mother of an upgrade. A private message alerted me to lacking action scenes and a load of disorganization. So I am moving the two prologues to an "Aftermath Files" chapter, and adding ~2000-3000 words to each chapter. So this week, updates will be arriving quite frequently. Other chapters (6-8) will have minor edits.

Chapter 8 will be offically up in roughly two weeks.

**EDIT:** As of 12/29/11, the C.C. rewrite has occurred.


	9. First Contact: Part 1

Chapter 8: First Contact: Part 1

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1255 hours

En route to Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p><em>This-<em>

A building passed under Shirou. The wind whistled in his ears. His vision was blurred, a mélange of urban landscapes-

_Is-_

A column of tanks moved backwards, their turrets strangely aimed behind them. Several men with guns ran, slipping backwards-

_Insanity._

Shirou closed his eyes, reminding himself that all he was doing was hanging on for dear life. Saber was leaping towards Shinjuku, and insisted that Shirou hang on to her.

A spark travelled through his fingers, passing through his body. By reflex, his eyes opened.

Saber's body was illuminated by a white light. Though all Shirou could see of her was the back of her head and uniform, he could feel something changing. Everything seemed to slow in that instant, the glow intensifying until it became electric, blinding and brilliant. A sphere of light expanded from Saber, engulfing Shirou's vision. The light left no mark on his eyes, but he still blinked in disbelief.

Saber had returned to her armored wear. Gone were any vestiges of normalcy, of the peace that Shirou had experienced blissfully and unrecognized. Saber was dressed for war.

And they accelerated. The air spun, then ripped as Saber left the sound barrier. Clutching tighter, Shirou winced as the wind stung at his skin, his body pressed against Saber's backplate shell.

His vision could only focus on one point, directly in front of him. A ruined building flashed before his eyes, and then his gut wrenched, inertia dragging him as Saber altered her direction vector, straight to-

_Oh God. I really don't want to die._

She slammed into the ground. Shirou gasped, his chest pressed onto the armor. The concrete rippled. The impact deformed the ground, the waves of earth shattering through the broken concrete. They radiated from Saber's feet, causing dust to flare off of the walls as the complex next to them shook.

Shirou let go of Saber. His body was, thankfully, still intact. He shakily stood, holding his knees and panting.

"I trust that you are alright, Shirou?" Saber's voice carried a note of amusement, even as she was checking her armor. She stepped in front of him, turning her head to look at him behind her. Satisfied that he was alright, she bent over, inspecting the condition of her shinguard.

Shirou nodded his head. When no response came, he looked up, and flushed. He quickly looked away. _She's so small, even from behind- Damn it. Not in that sense-_

When Saber stood again, Shirou spoke. "Yeah, I'm alright. That was-"

The echo of screams came from inside the complex. Saber and Shirou became instantly alert.

"What do we do, Shirou?"

_Why did I come here with Saber? She's prepared for a fight. Did I come here to fight as well? All I want to do is protect the innocent. Not only that, but to prevent anyone from dying. What if we're shot at? What if they're hurt? What if Saber's hurt?_

_Maybe I did come here to fight-_

_No._

_What do we do?_

Shirou gritted his teeth. "We save lives."

* * *

><p>They ran through the doors of the grey, dimly lit building, to find Elevens lined up against the wall, soldiers with guns raised against the Elevens.<p>

_"There will always be some that cannot be saved. It is impossible to save everyone. If I have to lose five hundred to earn one thousand, I will abandon one hundred and save the lives of nine hundred._

_"That is the most efficient method._

_"That is the ideal."_

_Kiritsugu once said that. Of course I was mad._

_I was … really, really mad._

_Because I knew that without being told. Because I myself was saved like that._

_I don't even need to be told something as obvious as that._

_But still …_

_I believed that someone would be a superhero if they saved everyone even though they think like that.  
>It may be an idealistic thought or an impossible pipe dream, but a superhero is someone who tries to save everyone in spite of that.<em>

And yet-

The fear in the room struck Shirou. The faces before the guns bore the weight of Britannia's sins, twisted in terror or stretched in the release of tears. His stomach turned. He knew that something terrible would happen.

"Saber!-"

Saber could only take a single step. The air crackled, humming with the charging of electromagnetic rails, indicating the transition from cold to active.

Round after hypersonic round the soldiers fired into the Elevens. Tears and blood few. The carnage was absolute, bodies bursting, prana leaking from the bodies as some still clung to life.

A soldier emptied his clip, and began to draw another one. He loaded his gun, opening his mouth with the click to shout some military catchphrase.

The quiet report of his heart bursting silenced him forever. He looked down, and saw a stretched diamond hole in the middle of his chest. Which couldn't be right, since he felt _something_ foreign still inside of him. The outline of it blurred as if the air was moving around it, blood spurting into the air regularly, then sporadically as his heart died.

His gun was forcefully removed from his hand, and then his life ended as the blade swiftly pulled upwards through his spine, through his head.

"You-" Shirou choked on his voice. Something dark inside of him erupted, an impossibly intense hatred. It was a hatred that he had never truly felt before, only brushed against when he was bullied in Ashford. It was a hate directed against those that tormented the innocent. His heart was pounding, his senses all rebelling against this change in his perspective.

He was never this passionate about justice, until now. Every time he thought about being a hero of justice, he saw an idealized vision, a clouded mirror of a crude facsimile that he wished to be true. A fragment, a sliver of the truth, of All the World's Evil touched him.

In that moment, a massive evil begat a seed of evil.

Somewhere, the Grail smiled.

The sheath interred in him shivered. There was something new, repulsive to it embedded inside of its host now.

His index finger tightened. He was so close. Those soldiers killed. They deserved justice. They deserved to die.

_Am I to judge?_

_Who else would see justice rightfully distributed, retribution dealt righteously?_

_What- What are these words?_

_But he's right._

Both moral and mechanical resistance were overwhelmed in that instant.

Shirou pulled the trigger.

The sharp crack of the rifle alerted the remaining soldiers too late. Their crimes were paid back in full, paid back in metal, blood, and prana.

Shirou ignored their jerking, their flailing movements. He didn't see red or black in rage. He saw every single detail of the dead and dying, of both the perpetrators and the victims.

Only when the gun ran dry did he feel nothing.

_No, that's not right. It's not that I don't feel anything. I do feel something. I have to._

_But I can't describe it._

_Justice?_

_This- this can't be what justice feels like._

_I feel sick._

He staggered over to the garbage can.

"Shirou!" _He is only a child. Why did he not leave the fighting to me?_ Saber ran over to Shirou's side, watching helplessly as he heaved and retched.

Shirou wiped the side of his mouth. "I'm- I'm alright, Saber." _No, I'm not. But I can't let Saber down by being weak._ "We have to keep going."

She watched her Master in concern, before determining that he was able to carry himself. _He should not fight. That is my responsibility._ "I agree, Shirou, but you should leave the fighting to me. That is my duty."

"No."

"What?" _Is this happening again? There is a difference between deceiving patrols and fighting battle-ready men. What is he thinking?_ Saber's demeanor reflected her thoughts, her jaw set and hard.

"We're in this together. I know that I'm inexperienced. But I will not just stand by-" _While a girl fights for me? She won't accept that._ "-while I am capable of helping others. If I have to fight, I will. Don't expect me to hide behind you, Saber."

She sighed. "Foolish that your decision may be, I cannot argue with its valor." Suddenly, she looked at him straight in the eyes. "Very well. Who is our enemy, Shirou?"

Shirou hesitated at that. "I- That's not-" He paused again, closing his eyes, trying to sort out his thoughts. He felt that dark fragment, the piece of himself that surprised him when he saw evil truly appear. He found his answer there. "Both resisters and Britannians have hurt innocents in the past. We protect the innocent. That's our goal."

Saber nodded her head once. "I understand."

Shirou looked outside of the window, trying to keep his mind off of the dead. No matter how much he tried, he could still see them. He could see their faces, the fear that both Japanese and Britannians had as they realized that they were going to die. One face particularly stood out. It was that of a young girl, tears streaming down her face. She was silent throughout the ordeal, even as her face burst into a gout of blood and the bones shattering outward and the hair clumped with the fragments of flesh and-

_Just stop. You have to worry about what's next._

The distant rumble of treads grinding asphalt and the rant of muzzles drew his attention southwards.

"Saber."

She nodded again.

* * *

><p>They landed on the top floor. This time, Saber took the precaution of landing gently.<p>

Shirou scanned the battlefield with the scope of the rifle he took. Three tanks had just arrived, reinforcing a formidable deployment of four heavy weapons squadrons. Strangely, a knightmare was also present, its Factsphere sensors wide open.

_I suppose it's there to help find targets. It's clumsy here, but knightmares are still pretty useful for the Britannians. Saber will have an easy time against it. The tanks are going to be tough, but …_

He put those thoughts aside and turned to the other side of the street.

All that was left were a few people with two guns to share between them. Looking closer, Shirou-

His heart jumped. Again, his stomach churned.

The tanks charged, roaring mixed with the rattle of shattered concrete. Screams of anguish joined in as the resistance were crushed, blood spattering across the ground.

"Saber, we have to help the resistance."

"Shirou, before we enter the fray-"

"What is it?"

"How do we know who is in the right? Simply because there is a weaker opponent does not mean that they are the ones we should help."

Shirou contemplated these words. _Saber's right. For all I know, these Britannian soldiers could be under different orders. There are some Britannian soldiers who are- who are better than others. Still-_

He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, but he saw her point. "Saber, we'll go somewhere else. For now, we have to help the innocent. Thank you."

Saber looked puzzled. "Why are you thanking me?"

"For keeping me on the right track."

She smiled. _Even in this world fraught with violence, Shirou can still hold on to his morals. As of yet, our enemy is not clearly defined. It would be easy to charge in, even- even after all that we've seen. I do not know what has become of Britannia, but I still hold hope for it._

**_"Saber." That hope is dimming, is it not?_**

_What-_

The smile instantly disappeared. Saber 's eyes widened in surprise. _What was that? I thought I killed that side of me-_

"Saber?" Worry creased Shirou's brow. "We have to go."

She cleared her mind of all of her concerns. "Then we depart now."

* * *

><p>Once again, they were in the air. Shirou was becoming accustomed to this sort of flight, and he was able to search the ground for those who needed help.<p>

He found then soon enough.

The screams were all he needed.

"Saber! There's a group coming up-"

His words were taken from him as Saber slammed into a wall, launching off and propelling herself to the ground.

They landed between the fleeing, unarmed residents and the advancing infantry and tanks. Their impact caused both to shudder, slabs of concrete throwing soldiers off-balance and turning tanks to lean on their treads.

They stood, enshrouded by the newly risen dust, shadowy outlines under the building's own shade. To both sides, they looked like fallen angels that were sent from the heavens. For even with their earthly contamination, a divine luminosity emanated from them. One was bent low, his weapon held close to him. His body was wound taut, ready to attack.

The other was simply majestic. She held her head high, her body upright. She looked like she wore a dress, but with the dust and darkness, who could say? The light seemed to come from her, with little gold particles vibrating softly in a gradient. Her left arm was outstretched, fingers curled into a fist, save for one which was pointed at the Britannians.

With all the authority of a king, a strong, clear voice rang out.

"Prepare yourself."

* * *

><p>Saber swept forward. Her dress and armor flattened against her figure, the crack of fractured air pressing them to her body. She drew her sword behind her, both hands wrapped around the grip.<p>

It was all so familiar to her. The classic stroke upwards, the warmth of her gauntlets only felt when she clenched her grip, the wind in her hands becoming ferocious. This was her power, her only true assurance of her worth.

In one moment, there was a leader of a squadron, about to issue commands to his men. In the next, she reaved him in two, the Invisible Air cutting through without any resistance.

She turned the swing around, the blade's position rotating around her arms' axis, and cut sideways. His men fell. Or rather, their upper bodies fell, their torso and legs remaining upright.

Continuing on with her momentum, she twisted her sword into a thrust position, and amplified her Invisible Air. Her Servant-enhanced senses blurred, an indication of the sheer force of the wind aura that she unleashed. The moment the tip of her sword touched the tank, the metal slab warped in a spiral, a clean hole expanding around her weapon.

She pushed her sword forward. The blade, sparking with prana, touched the ammo stores.

The detonation was contained before Saber, her Invisible Air directing the blast towards the other tank. It was a display of brilliant orange, gutted flesh, and shorn metal. The cries of despair from the tank were its final report, the pure energy from the redirection obliterating the last tank and squadrons.

It was over before anyone could fire a shot.

Saber collected herself. In all, she did not use that much prana. More conflicts would, though, require her body to be replenished from Shirou.

She checked up on him, running over to his position next to a group of children.

Shirou turned to Saber. "We-we did it, Saber. We saved them." He tried to smile, but it was forced.

She recognized all of the signs of shock. "Shirou, you should rest."

"No, no. I can't do that. I have to- I have- they need-" His eyes looked wildly, his breathing heavy.

"Take a breath, Shirou. One minute of breathing will not hurt anyone."

"But the more I can do, the faster I can stop- I can stop everyone. I can convince both Japanese and Britannians to stop fighting. That way-" And here, Shirou's anguish finally appeared. "-That way, I don't have to hear the voices. I don't have to see their faces anymore. I can save- save everyone."

His hands were clenched into fists. "Why did I have to kill? They needed their lives, more than I do."

He looked directly at Saber. "And- and you. I should be fighting, not you. I shouldn't have dragged you into this. It isn't right."

Shirou calmed himself down, voicing the questions that tormented him for so long. "Where's the justice here? Where did it go? Kiritsugu, why is it impossible?"

"Shirou!"

Shirou nearly jumped backwards. Saber had grabbed his shoulder with her left gauntleted mitt, the solid metal guard around her last three fingers pressing firmly on the muscle. Her eyes were unguarded, full of concern and worry.

"You are too kind for this, and you value your life too little. However, we are in this until the end of this day. You just saved the most innocent lives possible. If you think you can save them by yourself, then do so." Saber's eye's returned to their guarded, unreadable state. "You have to come to your own realization that your desire to protect everyone in completely contradictory. In this place, the battle lines are drawn. I cannot serve someone who cannot fight and kill."

"Saber, that can't be right. Everyone deserves to live." I know that it's naive and unreasonable, but it's the only way I can find worth in myself. That's my-

"Not everyone." Saber looked down, trembling.

"Saber? What- Who can judge-"

"This is not the time or place, but I will explain this to you." She looked back once again to Shirou. Her eyes were still guarded, but a crack of vulnerability was present, in the form of a slight liquid haze about her eyes. "I was in a position where I had to make the exact same choices that you are facing now. I was young, I was foolish. I found this to be true: pursuing the illusion of universal salvation will only lead you to despair. The only success can be found in acting as the judge of others, and acting on that." She tightened her fists. "I ultimately failed as a judge, because I was not strong enough to hear the will of the people.

"This is the choice I had to make. This is the choice I have to force you to make now. Will you be stuck between your ideals, or will you choose a side to call your own?"

Shirou had to look away from Saber's intense gaze. As he did, his eyes fell upon the children, crying and hugging each other.

_I have to protect them. That much is true, since they can't protect themselves._

_In order to do so, I have to fight. I have to be prepared to kill, even if it means depriving another child of their father. Because-_

_Because there isn't anyone else to take those actions. There aren't any superheroes. There are only heroes._

_Heroes have to make the tough decisions that nobody will face._

_That doesn't mean I should stop my attempts to save everyone._

_But there are some who I need to save more than others._

"Saber, you're right. But I won't stop trying to protect everyone."

"Did you not hear what I-"

"Don't get me wrong, I understand what you mean." Shirou crossed his arms and sighed. "When it comes down to the fight, I'll kill if I have to. Some people do need to die if they're going to kill. But my ideal is to have everyone safe, no matter their crimes. I know it sounds contradictory. I can't really explain it. But I will defend as many as possible."

He sighed again. This would be the toughest part. "And- Well, I'll accept any help I can get. Just- don't put yourself into anything where you'll definitely be hurt, alright? Let me try to protect you."

It was Saber's turn to sigh, this time in light exasperation, but also relief. "I will admit, you are capable enough to protect me in certain situations. Very well. That is acceptable." She turned to the children, who had calmed down enough to realize that they were safe, for the time being. "Where do we take them?"

"I have a friend in Fuyuki who can take care of them. Now-"

* * *

><p>Perhaps it was Saber and Shirou's error to be discussing morality on a battlefield. Even so, there was little they could do about the two Sutherlands investigating the disappearance of two tanks and three infantry squadrons.<p>

"Enemy forces ahead." The pilot, a sergeant Lazarus Jenkins, shook his head. He found the use of knightmares distasteful against the underequipped resistance-

He widened his eyes.

The HUDs were still not the best in rendering images, but he could swear that the enemy forces were extraordinarily young.

He decided to take caution.

"This is your only warning. Surrender now, and you will be tried as citizens of the-"

"Sarge, they're fleeing!"

"Give them warning shots, corporal."

The corporal complied, the compensators straining against the heavy recoil of the rifle's first shot.

The round impacted directly on the Elevens' position, throwing up a cloud of debris and dust.

"Dammit, corporal! I said warning shot!"

The corporal fiddled with his controls. "The servo slipped, sarge! I need a moment to recalibrate!"

"Bloody hell." Knightmares, even the newest generation Sutherlands, were notorious for servo slippage. No matter how fine the devicer, knightmares were still fraught with mechanical errors. There were too many elements of freedom to fully correct a knightmare's quirks without becoming cost-prohibitive.

"Well, corporal, I will be writing you up in a report-"

"Sarge, I'm getting strange interference on my HUD."

The sergeant looked forwards. There was a cloud of intense static haze covering the Elevens' pervious position, flickering and impenetrable. He narrowed his eyes.

"Use your Factspheres."

The faces of both Sutherlands opened up, revealing shimmering orbs with a tiny red eye in the center. They scanned the area, but-

"Argh!"

Sparks flew off of the corporal's factsphere. Dents and filaments quickly appeared on the delicate orb's circuitry. The knightmare staggered back, the corporal screaming. The feedback from the hits screeched, causing Jenkins to wince. It was only even more painful for the corporal, his eardrums shattered, blood streaming from-

One round, fired from the bottom of the clip of the comparatively diminutive rifle in the hands of an Eleven resistance member, streaked its way into the red eye of the Factsphere, the most delicate part of it. The Factsphere overloaded, streaming smoke from the fried circuits. With the massive input signal from the sphere's destruction, the knightmare's data feed could only give one output.

Complete shutdown and ejection, complemented by a speaker-shattering feedback response.

The knightmare staggered, then toppled, a felled giant.

Jenkins lost the corporal's feed as the corporal blasted away in his pod. This was bad. Very bad.

"Damn." He began to open fire with his assault rifle, its heavy rounds rocking the knightmare to and fro. The bullets disappeared into the haze, and then-

They slammed into the walls and ground, the haze extending its coverage, tossing the bullets in directions away from the supposed point of impact.

_How is this happening? Only Sakuradite Disturbers could cause that disturbance, but to deflect-_

Jenkins pulled up a line to command, continuing his suppressive fire.

"This is Sergeant Jenkins! Corporal Crowe is down! Requesting heavy fire support and reinforcements!"

"Sergeant Jenkins, this is command. What is your situation?"

He made sure that the haze was still there. "I am patching my feed in, command. I think they have a Sakuradite Disturber, with some sort of protective field!"

"Command receiving feed- What? You can't take the channel, sir-"

"Aaah, a Disturber? And shielding, too? An interesting haze you have here, sergeant. Considering it's impossible to shield-"

"Who is this?" Jenkins checked his ammo count. Thank goodness he took a drum mag. He had expended roughly thirty bullets, using a heavy load bolt to slow the rate of fire. Anything higher under sustained automatic fire would burn out the rails.

"This is Lloyd Asplund, under Viceroy Cornelia's command. She just came in from the Middle Eastern campaign. Would you like to speak with her?"

"Viceroy?- Look, I need backup now!"

The voice sounded smug. "Well, Viceroy. May I send out my darling?"

A faint, but unmistakable voice spoke, tinged with annoyance. "Just go. This mess of an operation would be unacceptable with my unit."

"Your backup will be here in a minute, Sergeant-"

Jenkins barely managed to dodge the haze. When his clip ran out, he immediately cut the channel. The haze remained still for a moment, then- it moved. It left an afterimage on his HUD, and flew towards his frame.

His Landspinners had revved, and maneuvered his knightmare away from the haze.

He began reloading, strafing the positions that the haze was moments before with his antipersonnel coaxial gun.

And promptly collapsed, the HUD flashing the loss of its leg.

* * *

><p>Moments before, Saber was forced to remain in a defensive position to protect the children, her Invisible Air whipping and deflecting the bullets from the giant. What she couldn't deflect, she cut with heavy, double-handed strokes.<p>

She was impressed by Shirou's shots. He managed to take down one of those giants.

Now, it was her turn to strike.

Her blade quickly found its way through the right leg, even as it tried to evade her movement. She just leapt up, using her blade's infinitely keen edge to cut throughout the knightmare. Her momentum carried her through the torso, through the chest, and up to the head. She slashed sideways, beheading the goliath.

* * *

><p>Private Suzaku Kururugi twisted the controls of his knightmare, boosting it into full throttle with the push of the joystick's primary and only button. Along with the shift of the joystick forward as well. Somehow, in ways he didn't really understand, the button did everything from boosting to firing weapons to jumping to engaging in close combat. Tohsaka said something about a prana interface with a gem, but it didn't really matter right now.<p>

What mattered was taking out the threat in West Shinjuku.

He already dispatched a number of hijacked knightmares from a supply train, but he was forced to disengage. Lloyd said that there was some sort of shield and Disturber, and that the Lancelot was the only unit that could stand up to a full Disturber.

The Lancelot … Suzaku was surprised that he had taken to piloting so quickly. He only needed a few hours to become proficient with it. It was beautiful when he first saw it, a tall, gleaming white knight- a knightmare. The elements of gold and green, along with its elegant figure, was simply the most wondrous thing Suzaku ever seen. And what it was capable of- It would definitely help him fulfill his goals.

He smoothly turned the corner.

And saw a blur- no, some sort of static- move up a knightmare. It lingered at the head, and then disappeared, the head falling-

_I was too late._

The pod was trying to eject, but it was damaged. The thrusters kept firing. The frame surrounding the cockpit glowed red, heating up the center.

Suddenly, the frame exploded, the blast surrounding the pod for a moment before engulfing it. The blast originated at the core. Which was strange, since according to his superiors-

_There's no way the Yggdrasil core drive would explode. It's supposed to absorb energy and turn it into mechanical energy._

_The pilot-_

Suddenly, Suzaku was filled with anger. _I was supposed to protect him. I'm going to stop this fighting the right way._

He pressed the joystick button.

_I will stop the Elevens from fighting. I will secure peace, and that means destroying whatever weapon the Elevens are using now._

* * *

><p>Saber turned her head, to see a white giant charging rapidly, chewing up the ground with the spheres on its legs. Its energy and power were enough to cause her to take caution.<p>

She pushed off of the knightmare's head, escaping the explosion.

_This will be different. I will buy time for you, Shirou. And God willing, I will destroy all our adversaries._

Saber landed, kicking off with a shockwave, shattering the air and creating a flare of light.

"For Promised Victory."

* * *

><p>AN: Oh snap, Saber vs. Lancelot. That's in the chapter after the next. Lelouch and C.C. are going to wage their own brand of war in the next chapter.<p>

Odds are, there will be an edit soon, revision and corrections and all.

Hoo boy. I hate replying outside of a private message, but for this, I need some wide input. You guys can reply to this with further reviews, suggestions, and private messages. This was posted before, but I felt it most appropriate to put this in this chapter.

First, reviews.

HeavyValor. You are an idiot, a twat, and a prick.

Lycosyncer. There is going to be a lot of Saber/Lelouch/Zero conflict. Saber is going to deeply change Lelouch's considerations of his war. There also will be Shirou/Lelouch/Zero conflicts. Lelouch's intelligence and vindictiveness and Shirou's own unique brand of obstinacy will develop both of their characters drastically. Shirou is NOT Suzaku. And Lelouch will have to face that, even though both are morally the same side of the coin. As for Saber vs. Britannia, Saber is a combination of an ideal chivalrous Anglo-Saxon Christian knight, and the ruler of the original Celts who fought against Rome. The clash between the past and the present, along with Saber's wish, will shake Britannia to the Root (of Akasha, maybe? We'll see).

ThePhilosopherKing. I am impressed. So impressed that I included your character. And I thank you. I am touched by your complements (despite your lackluster review) and your recommendation (which was astounding. I highly recommend anyone who appreciates this fic to add your input here, under crossovers: http:/ / pmwiki / FanficRecs/ CodeGeass). Thank you.

MisterSP. This is a repeat of what I said in a PM before, but I'd like to let others see it. Am I to be offended at being called ignorance? Heh. Well, you made several decent points, so I'll let that pass. Quite frankly, your point about Saber's possible bloodline relationships with the crown was one I struggled with. Arturia left no heirs, according to the Type-Moon lore. She killed Mordred when he tried to take the throne (though did not hold any animosity towards him), and Mordred was Arturia's only possible descendant. For simplicity's sake, I'll keep to the Type-Moon canon and have someone distantly related imposed on the throne.

And my deepest apologies about Saber's line. The line was originally supposed to read "Indeed, if a certain knight had his honor, I might have been able to retain my kingdom." Though Saber truly loved Lancelot as a brother and knight, she does have a bit of snark as well. In the Fourth War, she forgave Lancelot, so the snark is not entirely out of place. The line in the story was an older version taken from my scraps and ideas. So a cookie to you, MisterSP, for catching that. Or whatever fangled reward people on fanfiction . net give. Grats.

reality deviant. 1. I toyed with the idea that Saber would take the crown, but it cannot be. To do that would be to go against everything that Shirou will teach Saber. Besides, that's WAY too happy an ending for a crossover between Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night. It's a possible Good End, but definitely not the True End.

2. Oh, yes. The Japanese have mages. As you will see in the next chapter.

3. I REFUSE TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT SAKURA. SHE DOESN'T DO ANYTHING. MY GOODNESS, I DID NOT SEE A SPOILER. DID YOU SEE A SPOILER?

Monsieur Twinkles, KizaruBoss1. Thank you. I wanted to set up the personalities of every character, opening up interactions between the two universes. Knowing that I succeeded means so much to me.

all other reviewers. Thank you. I appreciate your comments, your praise. If you guys see ANY issues whatsoever, please don't be afraid to comment.

Now, to address updates:

CHAPTERS 1-4 ARE COMPLETELY EDITED. CHAPTERS 5-7 WILL BE EDITED LATER. AFTERMATH FILES ARE TO BE ADDED LATER.

Chapters 8-10 (or rather, First Contact Parts 1-3) will be completed along these two weeks.

Chapter 9 will be offically up in about a week.

LAST THING. You guys will see a Kayeri Brant III (and a Nakashima Hajime) floating around. He's a character created by a good friend and a beta, Mr. Sparkles. If you'd like to create an original character, please send a PM detailing this character.

The RULES for creating a character:

1. You MUST post a review that is at least 500 characters and has CHARACTER written on it (the CHARACTER is so that I'll know you qualify). Or I'll just TROLOLOLOL all over you. Give me something, and I'll give you something. Fair's fair.

2. No Servants. No Masters. I already have those planned out to a scientific fact. Don't ask me how.

3. Keep it sensible. No whores, no zombies, no clones, no evil twins. Keep it original, too.

4. NO. FREAKING. MARY/MARTY/GARY SUES. I do not want Edward Cullen sparkling in here and sweeping Arcueid off her feet. She'll eat him.

5. Describe the character in detail. His role is the most important part. Then personality and qualities. Then appearance. More would be great.

6. Keep the character different from the rest of the characters already in Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night. I do not want a Rin Tohsaka clone. One is terrifying enough, thank you.

7. Do not make him/her plot centric. I'll integrate the character into the plot.

8. Understand that I'll do the best that I can to keep the character relevant and alive. Sometimes, that's hard. Sometimes, I can't keep the character in a chapter, and I'll have to put him/her in another.

9. THERE IS A CAP TO HOW MANY CHARACTERS I CAN HAVE. I AM TENTATIVELY LIMITING IT TO 10. MORE MAY BE POSSIBLE. A chapter update and a review will appear telling when this limit is reached.

10. One review, one character. Multiple reviews will not entitle you for multiple characters.

11. Read rule #1.

12. You do not talk about the fight club.

Thank you so much for all of your time and input. I love all of the reviews you've given me, and you've all given me the drive to hammer out this story. Enjoy.

Read and Review. It means the world to me.


	10. First Contact: Part 2

Chapter 8: First Contact: Part 2

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1302 hours

En route to Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>The car handled surprisingly well. Or, Lelouch thought it handled well, considering the abuse it (and, by extension, he) was being put through.<p>

C.C. was a brutal driver. She called it "brushing" the other cars.

That was an understatement.

Steel frames screeched and buckled under her breakneck racing. The black trail of rubber on asphalt left a burnt stench lingering in Lelouch's nose, as she swung around one corner after the other. What she did was necessary for both reaching Shinjuku with all due speed and evading Britannian pursuit, but he wasn't focused on that. He was more worried about his head and whiplash.

Whatever he was going to say was swallowed by his gasping throat as they tempted death once again.

_Just because you're Immortal-_

"Oh, let me have a bit of fun, Lelouch."

"What?" Lelouch was pinned against his seat, but he managed to turn his head. He didn't know what scared him more, the virtually expressionless girl at the wheel, or what the vehicle was actually doing. "Some fun this is! I didn't even say goodbye to Nunnally. I am going to die here because of a silly green-haired psychic who is too hyped up on adrenalin-"

"Just because you're built like a stick doesn't mean you have to be melodramatic, Lelouch."

Lelouch's words were caught in his throat._ I am not built like a stick, and I am not being melodramatic!_

"Well, I'll admit your dashing good looks make up for it. Who knows? If I'm suitably impressed by your bravery, you might find a certain _reward_ when we get home." She took her attention off of the road, looking coyly at Lelouch.

_I- What- That's preposterous- Look at the damn road!_

"We're here. No need to get your panties in a bunch."

She skidded the car sideways, stopping neatly adjacent to a wrecked building. C.C. completely ignored the destruction she left, splintered barricades and shocked civilians and soldiers alike. With her practiced banter taken from the minds of some fairly effective Britannian squads she had trained against, Lelouch had totally ignored them as well.

"So, what's the plan?"

"We have to find Shirou. And that girl, Saber." Lelouch staggered out of the car, steadying himself before walking into the building.

C.C. followed. "And how are we to do that?"

"I was going to call him, but he always leaves his phone at home."

"But you're not just here for him."

Lelouch started faintly. "You're right. I was going to ask you-"

"Of course I'll help you. That's what friends are for, right?" C.C. smirked. "What do you have in mind?"

"On the news, I saw a G-1 Base with the Imperial Crest. The Britannians only use those when they're carrying high-value personnel, namely royalty. I aim to capture it."

He looked around. The building was completely empty, but outside on the other side, he could see Britannian troops running towards the areas in conflict.

"C.C., I need a Britannian uniform." Lelouch looked down, stroking his chin.

She cocked her head coyly, stroking her chin as if she was deep in thought, just like Lelouch. "I may be mistaken, but aren't you wearing one?"

Lelouch's expression didn't change. "We'll need to ambush a soldier."

"Fine, fine." C.C. touched an exposed metal rod of the building's foundation. She focused on one of her less painful deaths. It took less out of her to concentrate on a death that wasn't as traumatic.

A bullet to her head, "mercifully" shot in the first Great War. The wrecking of her skull, the mashing of her brain. That would at least put the two soldiers stationed outside unconscious.

The memory, one of her souls lost and recycled through Akasha, snarled and sparked through the rods towards the soldiers. The single metal cylinder separated by an inch of concrete would still be enough to carry the transmission of the death. The electric current, information embedded in its pulses, jumped to the two soldiers.

Two low thumps followed.

Silently, C.C. grabbed Lelouch's hand and dragged him over to the wall between them and the Britannian forces. Her head peered outside. Aside from the two collapsed soldiers, the area was clear.

"Take one. I'll take the other."

Lelouch nodded. The soldiers looked like they were sleeping. It would be easy to move them.

It wasn't.

A soldier weighs, on average, a hundred and seventy pounds. Add on twenty to thirty pounds of gear, and an unconscious soldier becomes roughly two hundred pounds of dead weight.

C.C. shook her head. Lelouch heaved and pulled. He moved the soldier an inch. _He wants to fight in a war? Not with that physique._

She pushed Lelouch aside and hauled. She only needed a second to drag the body inside.

"We change?"

Lelouch blanched. "We'll just take their armor-"

"Aww. And to think I would have been able to feast my eyes on that body those Ashford girls fantasize about. Trust me, their thoughts aren't exactly the purest about you." C.C. was having the time of her life, spitting sarcasm nonstop. "Though with your abysmal performance with that guy's body, who knows how you'd do in bed?"

_I thought she would be a powerful ally. Now, she's making herself more and more of a headache_._ I will not be rattled._ "Was that necessary? We have to-"

"I am a powerful ally. And I am not a headache. You could do this alone, you know."

Lelouch sighed. C.C. was right. And he needed all the help he could get.

"Just put the armor on."

They finished their disguise in a minute. Lelouch began scanning frequencies, using a soldier's communications set. It was going to be difficult finding the resistance's channel, but not impossible. He was fairly sure that the Britannians were listening in on the Eleven's channel even now.

A chess set, streaked with blood, caught his eye. He picked it up, just as C.C. lifted a rifle from a corpse.

_All I have to do now is find what pieces I have to play with, and the pieces my opponent is playing with._

"C.C.."

"Hm?"

"Can you detect enemy soldiers? And can you distinguish between Britannians and Elevens?"

She smirked. "That's easy. I can read their thoughts too, but I don't think you'd want to know their life stories. And I can't read them like I can read you. Whether it's the contract or your absolute transparency, I have no idea."

_It would have to do. The next best thing would be a combat HUD, but I'll only be able to find that in a knightmare._

"There's a train coming up with reinforcements. Guess what they have inside?"

"Knightmares?"

"However did you know? They'll be stopping at a station in five minutes."

"I am impressed. You can read them at this distance?"

"No, Lelouch." C.C. simply pointed to the line approaching in the distance. "It's called rangefinding. You use the laser designator on the rifle." She pointed at the small cylinder under the barrel. "That gives you an estimate of how far away the target is. I'm good, but I know when to use technology instead of my 'gifts.'"

"I see. We'll obtain those knightmares, and provide the resistance with materials to fight their war." Lelouch was juggling several strategies in his mind, blending them into an overarching plan as he began to follow C.C., who led the way in a brisk walk. _Most likely, Shirou would be trying to help his friends. The best way to both fight Britannia and help Shirou would be to assist the resistance. With the Britannian forces occupied, I'll be able to search for Shirou with little obstruction. Shirou might be caught in the crossfire, but that's still safer than being shot by a trigger-happy Britannian._

"Sounds like you care a lot about this Shirou."

"He reminds me of-" _Am I actually getting used to this? Well, I don't really have a choice if C.C. reads my thoughts or not occasionally. And if she's in this with me, then she deserves to know why I'm fighting._"Shirou reminds me of a friend."

"A Suzaku Kururugi?"

Lelouch stopped. A wistful smile tugged at his lips. C.C. couldn't see it under the helmet he wore, but she could feel it. Lelouch nodded. "I guess I am quite transparent, or your powers are that effective."

"You're sincere with your feelings. That was all."

A thoughtful silence reigned for a moment, before C.C. reached out and grabbed Lelouch's hand. "Don't dawdle. We have to catch a train."

_Catch a train, indeed. One laden with destruction._

"You are being melodramatic."

"I am-"

* * *

><p>The fallen soldiers were strewn about the train. One was still gibbering. The rest were dead.<p>

Lelouch tried not to think about it. He had found the comm frequency the Japanese (or Eleven, he juggled the two terms easily. Preferring one would eventually lead to an unfortunate slip in the company of some who thought the other term fit more). He had waited for a few minutes while C.C. cleaned out the train, listening in on the resistance's communications. He had to take off his helmet. An unwise decision in the middle of the battlefield, but the damn thing wasn't facilitative to picking out words in a stream of static.

Thankfully, C.C.'s methods didn't leave the cliché, yet still horrific, stench of death. He enjoyed the few breaths of fresh air before putting his helmet back on.

C.C.'s head, helmet on and mask off, appeared over his seated position beside a train car. "Nobody's left. I checked."

"Good."

"You know, you could have used your Geass on the soldiers."

"I'm trying to recruit the resistance. How would it have looked if I approached them with entranced Britannians in tow? Besides, you're better at incapacitating them than I am."

Lelouch rose, dusting off his recently acquired leg plates from the gravel near the tracks. "I'll be taking one of the knightmares. Now-"

He drew in a sharp breath. These knightmares were not what he was expecting. Tall and sleek, they were violet war machines of a different pedigree from the clunky Glasgows, or the boxy Sutherlands. This wasn't simply a tank on legs and rollerblades. This was man made into machine, a true knight's armor. Indeed, they were kneeling, like knights awaiting orders. Lelouch raised his gaze still further. Returning it was the helm of a knight, guarding the Fact Sphere with a noble façade.

"Lelouch."

He turned his head to the Shoulder of the first knightmare, meeting the hidden gaze of C.C.. "Yes?"

"You didn't forget, did you?" Her voice was surprisingly sincere.

Lelouch was visibly taken aback. This was the first time that he heard C.C. say anything without the taint of sarcasm. "Forget what?"

"Our deal. The contract you made to me. In return for your power, you promised to fulfill my one wish."

"Of course." Lelouch replied immediately. _In any other situation, I would have thought about it. But if there is to be a world for Nunnally to live in, it should be founded on a just sacrifice. This is worth paying._

_Though if I were to regret it, then-_

"You won't." C.C.'s voice was a little melancholy. "At least, you're making the promise for the sake of someone else. Too many have made it for themselves."

"What is it that you want, C.C.? Why did you choose me?"

"You'll find out when you're ready." With that crypic reply, C.C.'s vulnerability sealed up. "Don't die. You still have your part of the deal to fulfill."

"I don't plan on dying anytime soon." Lelouch chuckled darkly and got up. "Which is why I captured those knightmares. Can you pilot one?"

"Yes. I should be asking the same for you, but you probably know already, don't you?"

Lelouch didn't reply. He was preparing himself, as he did when he was practicing on the Ganymede. He entered the train's control center, searching for the command panel that monitored the knightmares. _If the knightmares were just being deployed, there would be an override available on the train in case of an attack. The override would disable the security codes and devicer keys needed to operate the knightmares._

"How did you know that, Lelouch?"

"My sister has always preferred rapid deployment. It's what she would do. She trusts her troops with the knightmare's security." He worked the controls and pressed the override, the hatches of the Sutherlands opening and their seats gliding out.

"Your sister?" C.C. raised an eyebrow.

"I recognized the emblem on the train. These aren't Cornelia's personal guard frames, just her regular knights. The news mentioned last night her victory in the Middle East, but her regulars are here. It's likely that she came here with a premade team to Area Eleven." _It was quite simple, really._ "She probably had to leave her personal guard back, with their required preparations for redeployment. However, the reason was urgent enough that she did leave her guard."

Lelouch turned around, surveying the battlefield. "That's why there are so many knightmares in Shinjuku. Only Cornelia would use so many." So many being the ten appearing intermittently between the alleys of the buildings, and the five on the train. Knightmares were rarely used for anything except heavy anti-vehicle duties. Throughout Area Eleven, there were at most fifty on active duty. With Cornelia here, there was an unprecedented presence of frames in a single battlefield.

"Impressive analysis, but you should cut down on the talking to yourself." C.C. made one last sarcastic remark before entering the hatch of the closest modified Sutherland.

_I guess that's the closest I'll ever get to a compliment from her._ He sighed. _She has been quite helpful. I don't know how I would have done this alone._ Grabbing the cord's handle, he was lifted up by the pulley of another Gloucester, the gentle whirring vibrating the cord in his hand.

As soon as he entered the cockpit and sealed the hatch, C.C.'s face appeared on the screen, her helmet off. "I'm touched, but you still haven't impressed me enough to get in my pants."

_I take it back. She's still infuriating._ "Is this all some sort of soldier act? Don't distract me with your teasing."

C.C. quieted, and she looked away.

Lelouch paused, puzzled for a moment. And then the realization hit him.

It was an act.

"Lelouch. That's enough."

She was covering up something. From what he had seen the day before and today, she wanted him to succeed, so what she was hiding did not place him in danger. It must be something that involved her personally. _What's worth hiding from me at this stage?_

"Lelouch, stop."

Pain. Weakness.

"Lelouch!"

He gagged. Nausea tore into his stomach and mind. From nowhere came the stench of death that was absent moments before. Lelouch tried to take a breath, and saw C.C. holding her head, writhing in the seat. Images, too quick for his mind to process and register, swept across his psyche. A clock. Smoky skulls. A girl, with long hair, looking away from him.

It all vanished. He remained still, his breathing haggard and weary.

"We are connected, you and I. We are accomplices. Pressing me, even unintentionally, will bring up-"

_What- what did they do to you? _"Who's capable of such evil?"

"Lelouch, don't. If you want your revenge on Britannia, you can't be distracted by me. And if you are to fulfill your end of the deal, I can't let you be distracted."

Lelouch was able to take a deep breath, calming himself and overcoming C.C.'s psychometric overload.

_Note to self. Don't talk to C.C. about her past or experiences in the middle of combat._ "I understand. Proceeding with the plan."

* * *

><p>Shinchiro Tamaki, for all his bluster and bragging, was actually somewhat competent in combat. He certainly played enough first person shooters to understand the value of aiming down the sights and taking cover, which a few hapless resistance members tended to forget. If they made it out alive, Tamaki would make sure the lesson was remembered.<p>

However, Tamaki was no strategist. Dead, bleeding resistance members didn't make good students for his lessons.

"Come on, you bastards! Come and get it!" Every single time he fought against Britannians, his guys died the most out of all the resistance groups. Ohgi and Naoto were better at leading. _But those Britannian fuckers killed them. I'm the only one who can lead these guys._

"This is for Ohgi!"

He leaped from cover, just as he heard the heavy machine guns cease their firing. He drew the attention of hot streaks of air and metal from the infantry, but his body too charged up with adrenalin and rage to care. All he could see were the black helmets of the Britannians. When he landed, Tamaki scrambled to get off the ground, smelling the powdered concrete briefly before snapping his rifle up to fire.

Tamaki grinned. Payback time. The light recoil did little to jar his aim. Several bodies danced, twisting with the bite of the high-velocity, low-caliber bullets. His finger pulled and relaxed, pulled and relaxed. Each burst tore through Britannian body armor, red fluid spouting from the holes.

"Move your asses! We got them on the run!"

He turned around, raising his gun with a triumphant "Yeah!"

There was no reply. The resistance members who were with him and were hiding under their friends' bodies, fighting against the four gun teams, two tanks, and a knightmare, were silent.

They had joined their friends on top of them, the rest of Tamaki's group in the grave.

"Shit! C'mon, someone has to help me here!" Tamaki cringed, debris creating little cuts into his skin. The Britannian fire teams finished their reload, chewing into the concrete. "Why isn't anyone responding?"

He held his gun over the remains of the concrete wall, spraying bullets haphazardly into the Britannian position. This was quickly met with the focused fire of the heavy machine guns and the tanks' coaxials.

_I'm going to be dead before those idiots get up and try to help me! Damnit!_ He opened his radio, tuning in to the "secret" frequency.

"Kallen! I'm pinned down! Get your ass over here!" He screamed into the comm set, barely ducking the tracered path of a bullet. Static crackled, then screeched.

"Tamaki, it's no good! The damn Britannians shot off my arm! This Glasgow is going to fall apart any moment now!"

Tamaki spat into the ground, a defiant gesture even as his cover diminished with every bullet from the gun teams. "My squad's a bunch of pussies! They won't come out and shoot!"

"I'll try to get over there as fast as I can! Hang on, Tamaki!"

The connection cut, leaving Tamaki to his own devices. He pulled the pin on a grenade, the pin clinking on the ground. _Let's see how much you like this, Britannian bastards._

He turned from the pillar he was hiding behind and flung it. It flew in a gentle arc.

And landed in a crevice of rubble, in the middle of the Britannian position.

"Yeah, you bastards! Take that!" His defiance was followed by an unseemly yelp. The hypersonic bullets devoured the last bit of the pillar, filling the air with concrete dust. He dove to the ground. By some stroke of good fortune, the pillar fell away from him, shaking the ground but doing little else to him.

_Fuckers are gonna get it now. C'mon, you 'nade. Do your stuff._ A grin was plastered on his face. _That's right, Britannians. Remember Tamaki. Remember the day a Japanese killed you!_

A low thump marked that part of the day as a small moment that Britannians would never remember.

"What the hell?"

The grenade had landed through a small hole and rolled underneath a concrete slab. The detonation shifted the slab slightly.

"Fuck!" Tamaki's bravado was wearing off. He looked again at his men. _Next time, I'm getting guys who aren't wimps!_

He crouched and raised his rifle, the decreased weight indicating a lack of bullets. He loaded the last clip from his bandolier. If he was going to die, he would go out fighting.

He readied himself, as much as a jokester like him could ready himself to face death. He was going to see Inoue and Sugiyama and Yoshida and Ohgi soon. It wouldn't be too bad.

A pulsation of the ground preceded a wave of mildly acrid smoke and chalky debris. Panicked shouts came from the Britannians, followed by an explosion and a tearing, metallic ringing. Tamaki paused for a moment. Then, he yelled into his radio. "Kallen! Is that you?"

"Tamaki, I took out the two tanks with the Sutherland! How many of your guys are left? I'll cover your retreat!"

He looked over the fragmented wall he had hidden behind prone. A one armed red Glasgow, scarred and sparking, stood over the fallen body of a purple Sutherland. The mechanical corpse lay across the two tanks, one spewing smoke, the other merely crushed. Small arms fire rebounded off of the Glasgow's armor, which Kallen met with a heavy swing of her arm. Low crunches of bone could be heard.

"All right, Kallen! Show them!" Tamaki turned to the remnants of his squad. "You lazy punks got lucky today! Let's go!"

There was no reply.

"Seriously, we gotta go!" _Damn lazy bums._ "Whatever, guys. You can go rot under those corpses."

He raised his radio back to his mouth. "Kallen, my guys aren't replying. They're all damn wimps. I'm heading to the-"

"Tamaki! There's more knight-"

Tamaki spun around. Kallen's Glasgow jerked and lurched under the combined fire of three Sutherlands that had just appeared. Somehow, it was able to still move, and ducked away behind a building, pinned down under the knightmare rifle fire. The remaining arm hung limply, useless after the damage sustained.

"Shit. Kallen! Eject!" Tamaki began running, bringing his rifle up to fire.

"It's jammed!" Kallen's voice was full of panic and fear.

_She's only a kid! Naoto, why did you-_ His gun fired, interrupting his thoughts. The bullets did little, but managed to draw the attention of the lead Sutherland's head.

It turned to him.

The contrast was striking. Britannia's giant engine of war, towering over a single man, intended to replace the common soldier. Man's machine against man, an artificial Goliath against David. Undoubtedly, the machine would win.

Tamaki wasn't smart, but he wasn't stupid either. These sentiments crossed his mind, and for the first time in a long while, common sense and mankind's most intimate instinct kicked in.

He jumped to cover.

He expected, once again, for death to come quickly. He had already paid his dues, did what he could. It was easy enough to prepare himself for his end's arrival.

But it didn't.

The machine faltered.

The Sutherland lurched backwards, the torso shredding into spiraled strips of metal from the rounds unloaded into it. For a moment, the Sakuradite was exposed. Without its protective core shields, the Yggdrasil Drive began to revolve faster and faster, until the blur ate away at the enclosed sphere that held it. That was when it overloaded, reaching the critical point.

In a gleam of pink, the Sutherland burst in a magnificent display of light, then flames and metal. It devoured the other two in a cruelly fortunate coincidence.

Tamaki stared at his saviors.

They, too, were Sutherlands, but of a different make. Their bulbous heads held their gaze towards him. Both of their rifle barrels were still sparking, arcing bolts still discharging from the recent firing.

His radio crackled and buzzed. An unfamiliar voice declared the impossible.

"Follow me if you want to win."

* * *

><p>"To win?"<p>

Kallen's jaw dropped. The idea was ridiculous! She and Tamaki were the only resistance members left. _Even with two more knightmares- And how did they get their hands on those Sutherlands?_

Lelouch smirked at the incredulous reply. _The female pilot in the Glasgow was good, but with that sort of attitude, it's no wonder that the Japanese resistance were only a thorn in the Britannian side. Victory would only present itself when you were committed to it._

"I can provide you with the tools to win. All you have to do is trust me."

"Oh, come on! So maybe you saved our asses. That doesn't mean we should trust you! How do we know that you aren't some Britannian spy or something?" An arrogant, irate male voice came on.

"What would I gain from helping you if I was from Britannia? They have far superior forces, in terms of both firepower and men. What do you have to lose?" Lelouch thought it was a simple argument. Simple being necessary, since the time was dwindling between his and C.C.'s timely arrival and the arrival of Britannian reinforcements.

"That's bull! Those Britannians will think up-"

"We'll take any help we can get."

Tamaki looked up incredulously at Kallen's Glasgow. "Kallen, we can't trust them!"

"They're the only choice we have! What are the odds that the two of us can get out of here alone?"

Lelouch sighed. "We are running out of time. Now, or never."

Before Tamaki could open his mouth, Kallen replied. "We're with you. What should we do?"

"Just follow us." Lelouch lowered his Gloucester's hand to Tamaki's position. "Climb on."

Tamaki hesitated.

"Tamaki! Get on there!" Kallen looked urgently at him. He was hotheaded, but he wasn't stup- Oh, wait.

Precious moments passed, before Tamaki got on. She sighed in relief. _Maybe he's not so stupid at all._

"Because you trusted me, you're going to win." Relieved, Lelouch spun his knightmare around, and sped to the train as C.C. and the red Glasgow followed._ Might as well build some trust while I'm at it. _"We're going to the train I captured."

The female's voice from the Glasgow spoke again. "How'd you get a-" She paused in shock.

"Well, I'll be damned. You magnificent bastard." Tamaki stood up, a gleam in his eyes. "And you're gonna give those Sutherlands to us?"

"Yes. I will also need your cooperation in fighting the Britannians." Lelouch felt satisfied. Everything was falling into place.

"Gotta say, you were straight with us. We're with you." Tamaki felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. "Hey, Kallen! Some of the other guys got over here too!"

Kallen gaped. _So some did survive. Who is this guy?_

_All the pieces are present. Now, to set them up._ "Woman in the Glasgow, switch out into the modified Sutherland. All resistance members, please place your best pilots into the three remaining Sutherlands. It won't be long before the enemy commander deploys forces to investigate its missing frames." Lelouch analyzed the resistance members. There weren't many of them, only twenty in number. However, almost all of them had rocket launchers and suitable anti-armor weaponry.

"We will engage the enemy in a defensive position, and then launch an attack. I have turned your IFFs off to prevent the enemy from tracing our movements." Lelouch allowed himself to relax for a moment, and then steeled himself. _Time for some motivation._ "I am going to ask you to trust me with your lives. If I give a command, I need you to follow it to the best of your ability. I can give you the victory you want. If you will follow me, then stay. If not, leave."

To their credit, not a single resistance member left. Perhaps it helped that their leader, Tamaki, was standing on the talking frame's hand. For the most part, though, they were inspired by this faceless leader who had given them an even fighting ground to wage war against their oppressors.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>The preparations were completed in a minute. It wasn't all that complex.<p>

_Well, on the board, it wasn't._ Lelouch knew that reality would kick in, and no battle plan survived contact with reality, at least in the movies. He hoped that he would be able to adapt.

He had set up two pawns, a knight, a bishop, a rook, a queen, and a king. The resistance not in knightmares were P1 and P2, his support units. He didn't have many pieces, so he would protect his pawns. N1 was the girl in the Glasgow, now in one of the modified Sutherlands. They had found a lance on the train, and Lelouch thought it appropriate to equip her with it. She certainly seemed competent with a frame.

One thought nibbled at his memory. She looked familiar when she got out of the Glasgow, but he couldn't place her. That was a matter for another time, but it still bothered him.

B1 and R1 were his other two Sutherlands that were piloted by the leader of the resistance, Tamaki, and a surprisingly large man, who would only provide "Volts" as his name. _Tamaki seems to be charismatic, but not all too competent. Volts, on the other hand … Despite his short cut, greyed hair, he looked young and powerful. Certainly not a leader, he looked far too brutal for the role. Ex-Japanese Defense Force, perhaps?_

C.C. was Q1. He couldn't think up of any other designation that fit her. She was his most valuable and powerful piece on the field. _She would be with me no matter what, a failsafe-_

"Well, K1, I'm flattered."

"I couldn't neglect my most ardent and supportive follower, Q1."

Somehow, he became comfortable with this verbal repartee, where sarcasm was their foils. But now, she understood that he had to arrange his thoughts alone.

_If Cornelia's here, she would respond with heavy-handed action, sending in a majority of the knightmares under her command to investigate. However, the forces under her command aren't the aces she's used to using._

Lelouch placed eight white pieces, four pawns, two bishops, and two knights, in the middle of the board. _I counted about ten knightmares, but I should prepare for more._

_An IFF is a double-edged sword. With both the terrain and the element of surprise on our side, we should be able to destroy the main strength of Cornelia's force in one battle. We'll be on the defensive, so I'll have the Glasgow run decoy._

His black pieces were all huddled together on the bottom of the board, ranks D and E and files 1 and 2. It wasn't proper chess setup, but this wasn't proper chess. A single black pawn was placed in front of the white force, mimicking where the girl left her knightmare in favor of the modified Sutherland. That's the Glasgow. It's easy enough to have it "move" with a few well-placed shots.

After that, his moves would depend on Cornelia's response.

_Now, for the enemy to respond._

He watched the IFF. Sure enough, a large number of knightmares and-

_Tanks?_

That was unexpected, but not catastrophic. He would just have to use a different set of tools. They would have to navigate the narrow streets of the ghetto to approach the train, since the train tracks led away from the station from both directions. P2, positioned in front of his forces, would do.

"P2, prepare your RPGs and aim them at the supports of the buildings in front of you. Do not engage until I tell you to do so."

"We have knightmares and tanks right in front of us! They're easy pickings!"

"If you take them, you'll die. If you let me destroy them, you'll live."

"Well, alright. Don't screw this up."

The enemy forces were approaching the Glasgow. _Now, it's time to put on a show._

"N1, shoot your Glasgow. Make it dance." _Fitting and effective. The girl would be skilled enough to do at least that._

"Yeah!"

The Glasgow shook and stumbled under the shots. Alerted by the gunshots and panicked at the "charging" knightmare, the enemy Sutherlands stopped and opened fire at close range, only able to see the Glasgow just now because of the tight corner they had to turn.

"Q1, B1, take your shots. P1, destroy their legs. R1, use HE ordnance on the tanks. N1, go in close." Lelouch paused to take a breath. "P2, destroy the supports on my mark."

The radio was filled with chatter and cries.

"Roger that!"

"Let's kill these fuckers!"

From his vantage point above it all, he had a clear view of the battle. Q1 and B1's frames held steady against their recoil, launching hypersonic bullets and soft-spinning grenades into the enemy's formation. One grenade actually embedded itself into the still-standing, barely intact Glasgow, which propelled the Glasgow into the enemy forces. The Glasgow slammed into one Sutherland, and then detonated. For a moment, the energy imparted to both Sakuradite cores destabilized their rotations, whirring and shining pink. Luminous, rose beams shone through the cracks of the armor casing, illuminating the shadowy alleyway even in the light of noon. Their shielding, however, sealed up the cores with absorbent rad foam, silencing the potential of an explosion.

The damage was done, though. The first Britannian casualty of the engagement was sustained, and there were more to come.

P1's rockets slammed into two other Sutherlands, accurate due to the narrow width of the alleyway. They were followed by N1's lance charge, which skewered another Sutherland in a shudder of crumpled metal. The pilot's body became a mess of fluids and bone, leaking out of the compromised cockpit. Another pilot, knightmare damaged by the explosions, tried to eject. He was flattened against the chest of the frame behind him. That ignited all of the ejection fuel of the frame's pod. That explosion filled the ranks of the Britannians, knocking over knightmares and rattling tanks.

Lelouch's knightmare rifle joined R1's shots on the ground, crippling and gouging tanks. With the lead Sutherland in tatters and the rear tanks disabled or destroyed, the surviving enemies began to retreat, trying to give themselves room to engage. It was time for P2 to unleash the check.

"P2, fire now. Evacuate once you're done."

The streaking of RPGs filled the air between the four knightmares and three tanks remaining. The building across tipped precariously with the rumbles of RPG blasts, then began its accelerating descent. Several tons of concrete rubble and steel beams crushed the mechanized force. One knightmare's cockpit was impaled by a beam, remaining upright until an entire floor fell on top of it. Lelouch watched it in satisfaction as the steel bar held while the Sutherland shrunk under the weight, its arms and head wrinkling and bursting before it vanished. The dust and powdered debris swept up the street, clouding the HUD cameras of the modified Sutherlands and making the resistance members cough and wheeze.

Still, they were alive, and it was easy enough to get over the dust. It was preferable to being dead and flat.

"All resistance members, sound off. Casualties? P1 and P2, you guys were the most vulnerable. Is anyone hurt?"

Silence.

"P1, P2. Are you alright?" Lelouch felt a pit growing in his stomach. He knew that knocking down the building would expose the infantry to hazards.

_I'll need more than determination to win this. I need the lives of these men, and I will not spend them needlessly._

"P1 here. One idiot got hit by the backblast of an RPG. He's alive, but we need to get him to a doctor. Besides some dust, we're alright."

"-Kaaakkk- P2 here." A wheezy voice sounded across the channel. "-Huff- -Whooof- We're all okay. Next time, warn us about the dust. We'll be coughing this up until next week. Whatever, man. You are one badass mother."

Laughs resounded through the radio. Lelouch obliged them with a bow from his Gloucester.

"Yeah! Let's show those fellas full well what our badass mother can do!"

Silence again reigned through the radio channel.

"Well, N1, I'm glad to see you so enthusiastic. Do save it for the Britannians."

Lelouch had to pull the radio away from the static crackles of the uproarious laughter. A guffawing voice cut across all of them.

"Well, Kallen, Kallen, Kallen! Somebody has a crush here, hmm?"

"Shut up, Tamaki!"

A strange buzzing noise filled the air. The chatter ceased, and Lelouch quickly took control of the situation. He looked up.

_A helicopter? Well, if they deactivated the disturbers, it makes sense that Cornelia would try to scout us out._ He spoke into the channel.

"Everyone, get to cover. P1, P2, I need you to stay here with B1. You guys need to be the decoy while N1 and R1 support Q1 and I."

R1, "Volts" called in. "Why are we splitting up? We need as much strength as possible to escape."

"We are not retreating."

Confused voices sounded across the radio. Lelouch sighed. He really didn't want to explain himself.

"We are going to attack the enemy headquarters. To do so, we need to lure the enemy forces, which are severely depleted, to a place where we can hold them off. P1 and P2, since you are without knightmares, cannot travel quickly enough to engage the enemy. You will be able to entrench yourselves in this area, and give the impression that there is a greater resistance present than there is. B1, you're remaining here to support P1 and P2, and to maintain the illusion that all of the modified Sutherlands are here too. The rest of the Sutherlands will travel to the headquarters while the enemy is undermanned and still concentrated on attacking P1, P2, and R1. There, we will force the enemy's surrender after taking out the guards."

To Lelouch, it was simple enough. To Tamaki, all that the explanation merited was a big "Huh?"

_Somehow, I'm beginning to think that this man is the reason why the Japanese haven't put up as large a resistance as they could. They were too busy babysitting this guy._ A sigh escaped from Lelouch's mouth for the umpteenth time today. Fortunately, someone was explaining the plan.

It was the girl- Kallen.

"-and Hiroshi's groups with your knightmare are going to distract the enemy while we go to the bastard who's in charge of this and force him to surrender." It was an effective summary, and the leader- _Tamaki, I have to remember that_- seemed to understand.

"Well-" And then Tamaki remembered what was bugging him. "Hey, we never got your name-"

_That took them some time._

"That's not important right now. Victory comes first. N1, R1, Q1, you're with me." With those words, Lelouch spun his knightmare, throwing up an impressive screen of dust before departing. Q1 followed, and after a moment' hesitation, so did Kallen and "Volts" Narukami Gensai.

* * *

><p>"Dammit!"<p>

Cornelia hammered her fist into the Tactical Display Interface, feeling the crystals barely give way. "Damn your men's incompetence, Bartley! They were not supposed to engage!"

"Milady, I apologize, but I did not-"

"Bartley-"

"Clovis, stay out of this!"

"Milord, General Cornelia is-"

Bartley was cut off by the report of a rail-driven bullet in his leg.

Clovis became livid, grabbing the gun away from Cornelia. "Sister, I will not have you shooting my subordinates!"

"And Clovis, I will not allow you to surround yourself with incompetent idiots!" Cornelia found her temper running short. She wasn't with her men, she was running on an hour of sleep, and she just lost her predeployed forces to a gang of Eleven ruffians. And now, her dear brother's advisor had just lost the chance to retrieve her Gloucesters.

_Those responsible will pay with-_

Guilford put his hand on Cornelia's gun. He shook his head.

She gritted her teeth, but lowered her weapon.

"Clovis, what would you have me do? We just lost half of our mechanized forces. I specifically ordered your advisor to surround the area and not to engage. He was overconfident and he underestimated the strength of the enemy's forces. So tell me," she said, glaring at the whimpering mass of a man on the floor, "what should we do with incompetence-"

"Sister, shooting our own men won't help."

"Do _not_ presume to tell me what to do on my field of operations, dear brother!"

Clovis was slightly bewildered. "But you just told me to tell you-"

"That was a rhetorical question, Clovis! I was sent here to fix your incompetence! If it wasn't for you and your indecent indulgences-"

"Let's not go there. And what of you? Your knight of honor isn't just used for military affairs, dear sister." Clovis was surprising cool, but his hands were shaking.

"Why you-" Cornelia raised her hand, in full preparation to give her younger, impetuous, incompetent brother some discipline. Guilford drew his pistol in response to Margrave Jeremiah's own. This situation was at full charge, and in a moment it would be brought to a release-

"Are we having a really bad day?" A head filled the command HUD, the bespectacled face sporting a goofy grin and positioned smartly under a cut of wavy grey-blue hair.

"What is it? Lloyd! We are running an operation here!" Bartley drew the glances of the occupants of the room. Even on the floor, his voice still conveyed the urgency that the operation carried.

"I'd say it's about time to deploy the ASEEC's special weapon!"

"This isn't some exercise, Lloyd! This is a live battlefield!" Bartley was going to continue berating Lloyd, but both Cornelia and Clovis looked at him severely.

"Can it stop the resistance?" Clovis nodded in approval at the simple question from Cornelia.

"Why, Cornelia, please. Do be so kind to call it the Lancelot."

* * *

><p>"Z-01 Lancelot now activating."<p>

"Lancelot activating. Releasing hatch."

"Z-01 Lancelot standby for activation. Power extension initiating."

Suzaku entered the cockpit of the Lancelot, studying the controls. They weren't so different from the controls in the simulator. The joysticks seemed to be enough to control Lancelot, using only one button to control its functions, while the movement of the joysticks enabled "devicer-frame directional interface." The cockpit was blank and spartan, with just a HUD and the controls.

"Suzaku, this is going to be just like the simulation. You did extremely well, and we normally would have taken you to the training facilities, but then this came up."

"I understand, Miss Cecile." He closed his eyes, remembering the awe he felt when the sheet fell off the Lancelot. It was a sleek, powerful design. Gold outlined the flanges that emphasized its shoulders, arms, and knees, white rendering the entire knightmare as some sort of knight, hailing back from times of honor and nobility. He would use this to promote peace. He would end this unnecessary fighting.

"Lancelot, the world's first seventh generation knightmare frame. Lloyd told me to tell you to keep it intact, but your life comes first. There's no ejection system, so don't fight if they're going to-"

"Oh, I'm sure Suzaku will perform above and beyond our expectations, Cecile. Well, if you're ready, Suzaku, shall we proceed with the initial startup?"

Suzaku just nodded, driving out any distractions that would come through the preliminary procedures.

_It's just like my sessions with Tohdoh-sensei. The preparation, the calm, the action._

"… energy filler … prana conversion units in place …"

"Starting from phase twenty."

_But in the end, I'm just a tool for now. I have to function to achieve a goal._

"… full output … critical voltage in thirty seconds."

" … armor-embedded Sakuradite ready to receive prana."

"Private Kururugi. Are you ready?"

_If I'm as good as the simulators say, then I can end this fighting without hurting anyone._

"Private Kururugi!"

"Miss Rin?" Suzaku opened his eyes. He was surprised to hear the voice of the civilian advisor.

"Don't wreck my knightmare. Not- not like I'm worried about you or anything, but-"

"I'll do my best, Rin."

"You'd better. And you'll call me Tohsaka, idiot." She abruptly cut her comm feed, the feedback her last retort. Suzaku winced, then closed his eyes again.

"Blaze luminous shifting phase … devicer setup initiated. Confirm devicer identification."

He put the key in, feeding in all of his necessary information encoded within to the machine.

"Man-machine interface engaged. Identity confirmed. Devicer prana feed initiated."

"Prana resonance confirmed. Stress levels minimal. Rejection response minimal. All readings nominal."

Suzaku entered his passcode, clearing the last barrier to operational performance.

"Secondary clearance from devicer entered. Clear for launch."

The mechanical deviations were different from the several hours he had spent in the simulator obtaining the test clearance to operate a knightmare. Lancelot hummed with the whirring and pumping of pneumatics in the core, shook with the drop of the Landspinners, and tilted with the widening of its stance.

The cables were fired off.

He tensed , then relaxed. He was ready.

"Lancelot. Activate ME Boost."

Upon voice activation, the energy fillers in the back of the Lancelot discharged their stores, shunting the energy from the ionic bonds of the nickel-metal hydride to a series of coils. The change in magnetic flux started the spherical revolutions of the magnets within the core, suspended in a fluid environment. The pink Sakuradite core was charged, and spun with the magnet's movements.

The prana conversion units drew energy from the fillers and fired.

Suddenly, the Sakuradite core flashed, internal energy drastically increased. Prana began to be engrained into the core. Circuits lit up on the cube, ignited by the converters. Now, the Sakuradite cube was free-spinning, revolving self-sufficiently.

The fillers cut their flow to the core, shifting their provision to the prana converters. The spinning Sakuradite core didn't need any more energy. It was generating all the energy it needed on its own, and then some.

Electricity generated by the core flowed to the motors, servos, and pneumatics, revving the Landspinners. Prana, converted from both the energy fillers and the core, leapt to the Sakuradite embedded in the armor, guiding the commands directed by the devicer's prana into fluid movement.

Wind lashed about the Lancelot. Landspinners made full contact with the ground. It blasted away, skating gracefully on the battlefield.

"Aha, Tohsaka! He's taking it full throttle,isn't he?" Lloyd was on the ground, laughing at the success before his eyes.

Rin Tohsaka didn't reply. Twin tails whipping in the wind, she turned to her black-garbed companion. "Archer, I'll be working on the data. Watch my back."

"Yes, Master." He drew his Walther WA2000 rifle and switched on the Specter IR thermal scope. His white hair was cut short and swept back, perfect for sighting in this environment.

He smirked. This was going to be entertaining. All the world's evil had nothing on what was to come.

* * *

><p>C.C. was puzzled. Someone was coming up soon, up the wide street they were taking. She'd have let Lelouch know about it, but there was too much psychometric disturbance from the source to even determine the tango's gender. The only way her "acquired Geass" could be blocked that effectively was if the target was an Immortal, or the target was a higher being from Akasha.<em>Some power that was. Thanks a lot, Akasha. Experiencing Angra Mainyu wasn't worth it.<em>

She still pulled Lelouch up on a private channel. "Incoming, Lelouch."

"How many, C.C.?"

"Just one. But I can't read it."

"What do you mean?" _For once, Lelouch actually does sound concerned. But it's just for his plan. He's just the same as Charles-_

_Then again, he saved me._

"My powers don't work on it."

"Damn. N1, B1, there's an enemy unit coming up. You'll have to rely on your HUD to see it, it's not on the IFF. Take point to intercept."

"Gotcha!"

The two resistance members sped up their Landspinners, travelling quickly on the road. Kallen and Tamaki were separated from Lelouch and C.C. by a good ten meters, covering each other's angles as they approached the Britannian HQ.

"I think I see it! It's only-"

Tamaki's feed was interrupted by several bangs.

"Tamaki! What the hell was that?" Kallen managed to glance behind her frame. A pair of cables lined her sight, embedded in Tamaki's arm.

_Slash Harkens? At that range?_ Kallen gritted her teeth. Almost all knightmares could only fire their Slash Harkens at a third of that range, to prevent the cable's whiplash from slicing their arm off. Anything further was asking for death. The pilot was a daredevil, then, as he retracted the Harkens, ripping the arm off completely.

"N1, you have to fight that frame at close range."

"Yeah, I know." Deploying her lance, Kallen accelerated her frame, to attack-

_He's fast! How did he get in front of me? _She twisted the controls, turning the Gloucester on a dime to dodge the white frame.

Her thrust lance only struck the afterimage of the white knightmare, and the enemy quickly struck back at her with a pair of the Slash Harkens on its wrists.

The HUD's targeting reticules spun onto the incoming projectiles.

_Gotcha_. She fired her Slash Harkens, knocking aside the others with a loud, metallic report. They rebounded away, rapidly drawn back to "armed" position.

"N1, disengage. We're going to fire."

She didn't bother replying, surprising the white frame with a rapid turn, and juked left, then right, to throw off the Harkens. The concrete cloud thrown up by her maneuvers succeeded in diverting the white knightmare's targeting, allowing her to escape.

As soon as she was clear, the voice spoke. "Fire."

B1 was positioned behind a building, covering N1's retreat. Q1 and the voice's knightmares were behind the white frame, pounding into the adjacent buildings. Their target danced away.

"That knightmare's too fast." Q1's voice, unfamiliar and superficially emotionless, offered a detailed analysis of the situation. "We're wasting time here."

"Agreed. Split up. When he follows, the rest will converge on him."

"Sweet, we got this!" Though Tamaki's enthusiasm wasn't shared by the rest, they fled to four different alleys.

They didn't expect the white knightmare to launch into the air with his left Slash Harken, air and powdered ground swirling beneath.

"Shoot it down! It can't dodge now!" The voice was calm but urgent.

Assault rifle rounds and soft-launched grenades all flew towards the target. They impacted in a flash of green.

The Blaze Luminous was activated, shielding the Lancelot from incoming fire.

"It's reflecting them? How is one-" The voice stopped in shock. A Slash Harken rocketed straight at him.

It buried itself into the torso of Lelouch's frame. His body jerked, the frame helpless as the cable was rewound, the white knightmare diving in for the kill.

"That thing is a monster!" In the few seconds that remained, Lelouch squeezed off a round, and prepped the ejection system.

He pulled the level, just as the white frame filled his screen and promptly decapitated the Gloucester with a retracted Slash Harken. The squeal of the cut feeds were shut off by the ejection. The HUD went dark.

The image of the gold-trimmed head, with its white face and green eyes, became fixed in Lelouch's last sight in the knightmare. The face was anonymous, but he would remember.

Lelouch flew. He didn't know where he was going, but he was alive, at least. He had to get out as quickly as he could-

His pod shifted, then stopped. _I'm still moving, though. My thrusters are off. I should have hit the ground._

"Buckle up, we're going for a ride."

_C.C.?_

"Who else?" the voice came from outside the pod, altered by speakers.

Lelouch opened his hatch. Immediately, his senses were assaulted by the rushing wind. Looking up, he saw the face of the knight Sutherland that C.C. drove. He sighed in relief.

"We're not safe yet."

_How so?_

"After you went down, he went after 'N1.' Both of your pieces are fleeing. So much for converging."

Lelouch noticed the smoke rising from various buildings. He shook his head. "One pilot. Just one pilot ruined my plans."

"Well, we're still heading for that base. You still have a chance. You're welcome."

_The most important element on the battlefield is the human one. I shouldn't forget that. I barely managed to escape with my life. I only was able to survive because I had an ally._ "Thank you."

"Save it for when we kill your sister."

* * *

><p>"Miss Cecile, are you sure about letting them get away?"<p>

"It appears that the Eleven resistance has regrouped dangerously near headquarters. They're using some sort of disrupter that can block projectiles."

"To be precise, Cecile, it's a Disrupter. One I've never seen before. I must say, I'm fascinated by it. Suzaku, capture it if you can. I want it."

Lloyd pushed Cecile, so that he could fit into the screen with her. Suzaku smiled.

"Did I do well?"

"Absolutely, Suzaku. You-" Cecile winced. Lloyd was sitting on her.

"Are astounding! Your numbers are off the charts! My good man, you are most certainly a valuable piece of equipment!"

"I'm glad I could help." And he was. Suzaku didn't feel bad about enjoying it.

But now, he had to save a soldier's life.

* * *

><p>"Archer."<p>

"Yes, Rin?"

"What do you think of Suza- Kururugi?"

_He's a bastard._

"I think his heart is in the right place."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Ugh. Ugh. Work ate up my time. But I offer no excuses, I took way too long with this chapter.

I think this may be one of the more lacking chapters here. Aside from chapter 5, which I need to edit. Badly.

Edits to this chapter will come soon. My characterization of Lelouch isn't all that great. Personally, I think it's crap. I think I made him a bit too caring. At the same time, he's a Byronic hero, and that character type has always been difficult for me to visualize. I'm better with Shirou and Saber. C.C. was also tough for me, but fortunately, the Lelouch-C.C. dynamic kept me on track for the most part. Reviews about this would be greatly appreciated, and any advice about writing either Lelouch or C.C. would be invaluable to me. This chapter was mostly a plot chapter, so not much characterization. I know, I'm disappointed too. I enjoyed writing Lelouch vs. Saber. There will be more of character interactions after the introduction arc.

A massive cookie for KizaruBoss1. Thank you so much for the OC. He'll be featured more, over time.

I will not presume to declare an update date. I screwed up, big time, with this one. I'm sure there are a ton of questions, but I'll try to answer them as best I can in the upcoming chapters.

Primary questions that need to be addressed:

C.C. being a telepathic Immortal commando. The whole telepathy thing is based off of a certain someone's Geass, but with a spin on the contract. I don't want to spoil too much, but I'll just say that Angra Mainyu had a hand in it. The Grail and the World are closely knit, so it's basically one of my integrations of canon Code Geass Akasha with Nasuverse Akasha.

Archer. Oh, Archer. Literally, Chekov's Gunman. The Walther WA2000 is extremely important and GAR. It's also canon in the Nasuverse, but for a different character.

Saber's Invisible Air. It's not Saber's sword, but rather the invisibility about the sword. It's not only a barrier, but a movement of air charged with prana. Prana, in short, is energy. Excess energy has a disruptive effect on electronics. Note that while Invisible Air is not active, HUDs can see Saber. When Invisible Air is active (in itself a cloaking tool, bending light around the blade), electronics are disrupted to varying degrees, in order of how close their function is to the purpose of Invisible Air. Optics are affected the most, followed by radar and other "sight" functions.

YES, I KNOW A LOT OF THIS IS SCHIZO TECH. As a mechanical engineer, I am appalled at what I have written. However, if Sakuradite is a high-temperature superconductor, it does have all sorts of properties that defy common sense.

Physicists, please don't kill me.

I'll reply to reviews after the next chapter. Due to the imminent approach of college, internship searches, and dorming, updates will not come as often (ugh, "often") as they do. Expect new chapters, ranging from ~5000 to ~10000 words, once or twice a month. I will not write on finals week.

I also got Fate Stay Night. It'll improve the story, but will delay some updates. Again, I apologize deeply for the disappointing update rate.

Lancelot vs. Saber. It will come out soon.

Read and Review. Thank you.

**EDIT:** As of 12/29/11, this story has been rewritten. C.C. no longer has the overly broken power of taking Geasses. That was the original plot bunny for this fic, and it was going to solely be a Code Geass fic. Now, it's no longer here. Other changes include a (hopefully) better representation of Rin and a better Lelouch. Chapter 8 Part 3 will be out very soon, and possibly some artistic renditions of the cast. I apologize for any confusion. Thank you.


	11. First Contact: Part 3

**AN: **Major rewrite concerning C.C. She no longer has the ability to acquire Geasses, but her Code still enables certain abilities. Chapter 5 contains the largest change, with a relationship flag popping up over Rin and Suzaku. And now, dear readers, the chapter.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8:<span> First Contact: Part 3

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1354 hours

Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>"For Promised Victory."<p>

She felt the grains of concrete ground underfoot leave the grooves of her armored sole. The delicate tap of her foot on the ground was the final aspect of grace before combat, her body a tiny, sleek projectile as she left the ground's domain. Her world then blurred.

The light behind her blazed, the discharge of prana before its transformation into a movement of Invisible Air. Saber's blade was held dual-handed, opposite of the direction she launched. The Wind Barrier distorted the world that traveled in her wake; truly, she was thankful for its presence with her. Her dress fluttered briefly, then was compressed by a single clap of the armor plates that encased it.

After that one bound, she was flying.

This was where she enjoyed the privileges of being a Servant most. The power at her hands was a fragment of her crystallized legend, despicable though she found her legend to be. _In a way, I am as bad as Shirou is when it comes to honor. I could sweep this white giant aside with one decisive blow of my Barrier._

_But … Every enemy deserves to fight their opponent face to face. Visors raised and countenances clear before battle. _

_Perhaps this is my way of atoning for my legend. I used to be a faceless, White Knight myself._

_At the end of my days, I was a faceless king._

_Now, know who I am, white giant. See my face, and allow me my repentance._

Two spades flew from the arms of the white giant, sparks heralding their release followed by black, corded cables. The cables shimmered in the air, running lengths travelling dead-on to Saber's trajectory. Aimed to cross right where she would be in moments, the spades were to impale their target twofold.

Saber easily accelerated. Her garments twisted with her body while she spun around the first spade, and slipped by the second. The cables vibrated when their spades impacted into the ground, barely missing the edges of her dress. She narrowed her eyes, her vision closing in on the individual filaments.

_Can I cut these?_

_I know what happens when a taut rope is cut. I have led too many sieges to forget._

The narrow space between cables grew as she flew past the crossing point. The horizon of opportunity was rapidly approaching before the cables became too far separated to cut, and she made her decision. She lifted her arms from their hold behind her across her body and swung.

With her blade outstretched and her body still spinning, Saber's weapon became an invisible disc about her. The length of Saber's blade bit into the first cable with far less resistance than she expected. She could see the stands fray and dissolve, and she knew that the hardest part was over. All she needed was to close in on her target.

She trusted that her new "allies" would distract the giant long enough for her finish her approach. Angling her Invisible Air to the ground, she touched the ground once again, and her foot initiated the first of several strides along the road.

The cables accelerated over her head, the crack of air slowly expanding over her ears as she decelerated on the ground. They whipped, their linear order dissolving into a wave snapping back with supersonic velocity. Saber allowed herself a small smile, and leapt off of the asphalt.

The blur of the cables slowed down in front of Saber, until she was moving at their speed. For a moment, she could only see the cable's shimmering black, and the oscillations flattened to a single plane. Now, she saw the giant. In the final seconds before impact, she prepared her blade.

_I will smite this giant, and he will be consigned to oblivion. That is my Promise for Victory._

* * *

><p>"Oops."<p>

All that had transgressed was captured temporally in that one word, and the seconds consumed by Kururugi's silent focus when he launched the Slash Harkens. Only half a second had passed before his HUD registered the severance of the Harkens, and the Disturber's static blur was fast approaching.

_Dodge!_

Suzaku jerked his controls to the right. Given what he saw, that was the best decision he could make. Given what was coming, that was the worst.

If he had stood still, the cables would have flown back to their original positions, despite the lack of guidance from the Harkens.

Instead-

The left cable slammed into its arm holster, smashing it into splinters before wrenching the Lancelot's left side back.

The right cable tore through its holster, and burst into the upper torso of the Lancelot. The Lancelot's armor was enough to prevent any internal mechanical damage, but the right Fact Sphere was gone, and the pristine white armor was marred by the fractures of impact.

"-!" Pain erupted across Suzaku's chest. His world rocked forward. The belt across his chest pressed on him, but it kept him from flying into the HUD. His vision became tinged with black, his body slowing down, while his brain kept moving forward. Blood rushed to the front of his body. He gritted his teeth.

He slowed down, but the recoil of the Lancelot's restorative inertia sped up the entire frame behind him.

The back of his head. It-

The feedback from the destroyed Sphere married the recoil into one head-wracking torrent of pain.

Screeching and blood, iron on his mouth.

"Arrrrrrghh-!"

He wrenched his controls left reflexively, accelerating to maximum speed. The blur passed by the Lancelot by a wide margin

"Suzaku! Are you-" Cecile grabbed the screen, but was quickly pushed away.

Tohsaka's face jumped onto the screen. "Kururugi! I'm activating the painkillers in your suit. Listen to me carefully."

Relief flowed through his body, and he was able to focus. "Thanks, Tohsaka."

"Keep your distance from that blur. Buy as much time as possible. And don't destroy my knightmare." She glared at him, but Suzaku could tell she was worried.

"Got it." He opened up the Yggdrasil Drive, speedily maneuvering away from the blur's position. It was stationary, almost hesitant.

He checked its range on the HUD.

300 feet._ I can work with-_

The display blinked.

50 feet.

_Shields!_

With a single press of the joystick's command button, Suzaku pulled up his Blaze Luminous shields, both fortunately undamaged from the whiplash.

The shimmering green held, then fluxed. The blur was stopped, but it didn't drop. Instead, most of it was tinged green, except for a sliver that was simply static, uncolored-

"Tohsaka! The blur is _on_ the shields! My energy levels are going down!"

"Pull back! Lloyd has a-"

* * *

><p>Saber found herself in a curious situation.<p>

Her feet were firmly planted on the green substance that blocked her charge. When the giant pulled up the green "plates," she reversed the hold on her sword, so instead of propelling her from behind, she had readied it for a forward thrust to attack the green.

Her blade went straight through, piercing both.

And it was stuck between the two green "plates."

It was like pulling her sword through mud. Whenever she tried to shift it, or blast it away with her Wind Barrier, it rapidly recovered. The flickering grains replaced whatever she tried to destroy.

_Whatever this is, I cannot spend any more time or prana on it. There is only one way to disengage._

She concentrated her Barrier, and sheathed her sword into another plane.

When her sword vanished, the Invisible Air didn't.

Gathered into such a small volume, it expanded, launching Saber away and blasting towards the giant's head. Her dress hugged tightly to her, the wind forcing her armor plates down.

The giant staggered back, its shields flickering weakly before completely disappearing. Saber called on her sword, and it appeared once more in her hand as she landed.

"Well met, giant." She braced herself for another pass, unleashing a portion of the Invisible Air. However-

The titan drew a long blade and held it at ready, its grey material emitting glowing, pink particles between its halves. The two edges met each other, fusing into a uniform, magenta weapon. It blurred and hummed with a high-pitched whine when the giant swung it experimentally, then settled pointing at Saber, the giant prepared for combat.

"You wield a blade? Very well." Saber took a defensive stance, sword held behind her. "May our blades cross honorably."

The massive sword came down. The whine's pitch increased in approach, telegraphing the attack. Saber braced herself, to cut through the enemy's sword and counterattack.

She noticed a curious change in the air, the whine growing louder and higher. The air was heating up.

_Wait. This is wrong. That sword is wrong._ A strange sense of foreboding permeated Saber, but she was already committed to her defense.

Her armored hands tightened their grip around the hilt, her feet set in a wide stance on the concrete. She was in no position to heed her alarm and evade the blow.

Saber found time slowing down. The Invisible Air about her vibrated ominously, beating against her with increasing frequency. Her armor began shivering and her dress rippling about her. A wave of heat hammered against her. And ever closer, the magenta blade approached.

The heat was almost unbearable.

She whipped her sword in a forward arc, in the last moment before the enemy's weapon struck._ Disarming this giant is the priority here. I have indulged the enemy too much._

The invisible sword touched the vibrating sword.

* * *

><p>The MASER Vibration Sword vibrates effectively at the frequency of the transferred amplified microwave, on the magnitude of one billion hertz. Its artificial-prana Sakuradite power source is harmonized with the blade itself after the initialization of the vibration, to maintain its stimulated emission of radiation. Sustained high-frequency reciprocation causes severe trauma to physical media, even at low amplitudes.<p>

It has never been tested against biological substances.

* * *

><p>Immediately, the Invisible Air was all but stripped from Saber's sword, hardening the air around her. Millimeter by millimeter, Saber's infinitely sharp edge cleaved through the magenta blade like it was nothing. The high-frequency reciprocation actually encouraged the invisible sword's passage. It was a small blessing to Saber, because as a perfect material, her weapon allowed full transference of the oscillations. And Saber's protection, her Wind Barrier, became a new medium for the high-frequency wave to travel through.<p>

In effect, though she was destroying the enemy's blade, Saber had placed herself in a pressure trap.

The travel of the high-frequency wave ceased in half a second. That was all that was necessary for Saber's sword to cut the magenta sword, and to send a half flying away.

But that was also all that was necessary for the damage to be done.

…

Her wordless voice was swallowed by the screaming of air.

* * *

><p>"Lloyd, I hit the blur."<p>

"My word, it's flying-"

Rin pushed Lloyd out of the way, catching the last glimpse of the blur's movement. "Into a wall?"

"The blur is still there. What are my orders, Tohsaka?" _I can do it with this. I can stop the fighting._

"Contain it, and wait for a clean-up unit to arrive." That's when Rin saw the MVS, sparking and flickering between red and grey erratically. "The sword. Why's half of it gone?"

Suzaku stole a glance at his sword, and widened his eyes. What was once a pristine sword now was a dagger. He looked back to where the blur was. It was moving.

"Damn."

* * *

><p>Shirou had brought the children to safety, and he was running back to the sounds of combat. He found some Japanese loading vans, and he was lucky enough to find someone who had jump-started a bus. He knew that he wasn't going to be able to protect those kids forever, and going into a vehicle would protest them most. Now, his goal was joining Saber and helping others.<p>

He ran up the mound, the last obstacle between him and Saber. He just had a hundred feet to go.

He saw Saber on the ground, leaning heavily on a wall. The white knightmare was poised to attack.

"Saber!"

* * *

><p>Saber opened her eyes.<p>

_My magical resistance. That is what saved me. I knew that blade was unnatural._

She got up.

_My sword. Where is it?_

_I cannot feel my sword._

She looked down, and sighed in relief.

Her sword was still with her. But …

Blood spilled from the crevices of her gauntlets, both tightly clenched to the hilt of her sword. The stream flowed red to her fingers, and touched the hilt, the pommel, the guard. They flew off in patterns of blood spatter, blown about by the Invisible Air.

_I cannot feel my arms._

_Nevertheless, I will still fight._

The white giant raised its arm. It was going to sweep her aside.

She leapt to the side, her legs the only part of her body that was working.

Even as she was about to land, the giant's damaged sword sped towards her again. Saber turned towards it, and tried to shift her arms. _They move, but I- I cannot feel them._

She activated her Invisible Air, her power rushing through her arms and her sword.

Immediately, pain registered back from her arms. She was forced away from the next attack, but-

Saber could not stop shaking.

* * *

><p>Shirou could only watch in horror as Saber barely dodged the assault of the knightmare's dagger. It struck, and struck, and struck. Clouds of dust were brought up by each impact on the ground, and each cloud was blown away by the wind emanating from Saber as she ran and jumped. <em>She isn't able to counterattack? Why, Saber? You were so strong before-<em>

_She's hurt._

_Because she should never have been fighting in the first place. She's only a young girl. _

_No matter how capable Saber is, she's just a small girl. _

_Why am I allowing her to fight? _

_That's all going to change. I'll fight for her._

He armed the rocket launcher he found from a fallen resistance member. Shirou lined up the sights on the cockpit.

The kick was minimal, and the stream of smoke clouded Shirou's vision.

However, he saw the flash on the knightmare, and he knew that he hit it.

It turned to him.

* * *

><p><em>Shirou? Why? That giant is my enemy, not his. He is outmatched. I have to protect him, by any means possible. <em>

She tried to take another step to attack, but a weakness in her legs finally betrayed her. She fell, her arms keeping her from the indignity of complete surrender to the ground. Blood quickly pooled on the ground from the effort, her gauntlets and vambraces now tinged red.

_No. I have the power to save my Master. This hindrance is nothing-_

The pain refuted that.

**_So. Let me in._**

_You?_

_I thought I killed you on Badonicus._

**_You thought wrong. Father of Britannia, you are truly a vile king._**

**_Do not deny me, we who are Vortigern._**

_… We? Your sins are yours alone._

**_Nevertheless. To save him, will you let me in?_**

_If I release you, you will replicate your sins on this world! I say-_

**_To save Shirou, will you let me in?_**

_I …_

Saber's voice was caught in a whisper. "… Yes."

She watched helplessly as the corruption occupied her.

Her sword rejected the Barrier, the wind abruptly ceasing.

Revealed was a cruelly beautiful greatsword, ebony and empty. Her blood flowed down, filling the intertwining circles in shining and crimson. The edges gleamed harshly, then consumed the reflections of light, a definition of the true essence of black.

Powerless, yet … fortified. That was how Saber felt, as her arms moved of another's volition, holding a blade that belonged to Britannia's tyrant of old.

She found herself accelerating, aimed straight at the back of the giant.

Her sword was brought sideways.

And it struck in a full circle cut, in a heavy arc of malevolence. Every inch it passed was smooth and clean, the fractal edge splitting the material with ominous ease. An obsidian line traced the cut.

The black sword barely finished its downwards path before Saber felt the other shifting her grip, readying for another strike.

A roar filled Saber's ears, and she wondered where its origin was.

Then she realized.

It was coming from her.

Suddenly, her blade impaled the center of the giant's back, hidden under the shadow of the box above her. It slipped through the armor again with ease, as if she was stabbing at air.

The puncture exposed a glow from the giant's core.

**_There is power to be had here._**

Currents of prana from the giant's exposed heart travelled up her sword, flowing into her. Saber, despite her numbness and lack of control, experienced warmth throughout.

Her aura grew in intensity and size, with more and more currents of prana circling up her black blade, filling the crimson circles and her being. The air crackled and spun, thrashing against her. Her hair was tossed to and fro, her dress and armor flapping and rippling. However, Saber was serenely peaceful throughout the death of the giant. She was focused on the enemy, watching the core grow dimmer and dimmer.

Fueling this display was the giant's power, its essence of life. The colors dulled, the white armor becoming translucent. The core became a tinted orange as it slowed down. Rapidly, the end of the giant approached.

_So this giant is a product of magic. It is not surprising, but-_

**_But you could have taken your other opponents' power as well. You thought they were living?_**

_Yes. There is life here. At least, their blood is a product of life._

**_Then you are a fool. You wish to win, yet you will not use the resources you won. A true king takes what is hers by right. Even if you have not listened to me, Iskander's words should have opened your deaf ears._**

_I will not listen to a murderer! A king-_

**_Takes every advantage she can obtain. And I thank you for this one._**

As much as Saber was being rejuvenated (indeed, consuming more than her fill) from the giant, she recognized the flow of power into the ebony of her blade. Within her, she grasped the expansion of her corruption.

_No. Britannia will not see your evil._

_I am Britannia's protector, from life to death, and from death to this War._

_You may be Britannia's saint of the fittest's survival, but I know who you are._

_Begone._

Saber forced her counterpart away, and redirected the prana flow to herself.

**_As you wish, my king._**

With that, Vortigern smiled, a cruel parody of Saber's own countenance, and left.

Relief filled Saber.

Until she understood that her other had left a last parting shot.

The giant was falling on top of her. She pushed off, and attempted to right herself.

That was when her excess prana healed her damaged arms, repairing the torn skin and muscles, and reconnected her nerves.

The hurt, the pain filled her vision with black.

She slammed into the ground, but she did not feel it.

* * *

><p>"Lloyd? Ms. Cecile? Tohsaka?"<p>

The Lancelot was pitch black.

_I failed. Again._

* * *

><p>Shirou ran, the weight of Saber in his arms hardly slowing him down.<p>

He had dropped the rocket launcher and brought his rifle up to bear when the knightmare attacked, but he could do absolutely nothing as Saber fought once more. He was frozen in those few seconds.

When she stopped on the ground, he discovered his muscles were tightly clenched. Ignoring the giant, he dropped his weapons and ran to his Servant.

His only concern was getting Saber to safety. No, it was even more than that. Her safety was all that mattered to him in that place, at that moment. He cradled her curled body, felt the tension in her muscles. Blood crept through her gauntlets. It crawled up her sleeves, tainting them into a deep purple. A shimmering in the air indicated that she was still clinging to her weapon, despite the cessation of combat.

He ran to escape with her.

_Saber. I couldn't protect you._

_I know that you're better at fighting. I know that if I defended you, I would have died._

_That would have been better. No, that would have been the best outcome, Saber._

* * *

><p>Engagement ended at 1417 hours.<p>

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1354 hours<p>

Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>The sounds of combat grew lower and lower. Lelouch watched the head of that white monster fade in the distance.<p>

"What do you think that was, C.C.?"

"Another weapon for the glory of Britannia." C.C.'s deadpanned across a tinny speaker.

"Hm." Lelouch just shook his head. Whatever that knightmare was fighting, he hoped that its target was putting up a good fight.

"All tasks at hand are complete. C.C.. Set us down."

"I'd have thought you'd want to use the knightmare to take out your sister."

"No. I have a more personal approach in mind." The knightmare slowed down, and Lelouch jumped. As he tried to recover, he saw a soldier's feet in front of his eyes.

"What-"

"Relax, Lelouch."

C.C. smirked as Lelouch snapped his head up.

"C.C., don't do that again."

He followed her as she lead the way to the command center. She stopped him abruptly.

"Lelouch. How do you want to do this?"

He gave a cursory glance at the battlefield, then focused in on the threats.

"Five squads, a heavy protection detail around the base. Standard armament, though. They must have been hastily prepared."

_This is unusual. My sister has always been cautious about security, quality over quantity. If they've invested this much manpower, though, they have to be compensating for something. Or this isn't her command, and Clovis is loaning soldiers to her. Either way, this is not ideal for just two people to infiltrate._

_Then again, I have two powerful pieces left. But …_

_If Cornelia knows about C.C.'s disappearance, then she should have taken precautions. I'm willing to bet that this "terrorist attack" is just a media ploy. That they're hunting for any indication for their missing Immortal._

_But even if that's true, why would C.C. attack her handlers the day after she escaped? Their weapon should be hunting C.C., not hiding in her base. And a weapon that can kill someone who can't die is not worth using to track a single person. Even if it did exist, then we would have been found by now._

_Our only enemies, then, are the soldiers in front of us._

"You want me to take care of them?" C.C.'s smirk widened slightly.

Lelouch paused. "I don't want you involved. Not yet."

"Something to prove, then?"

_I have a power that is almost completely unknown to me. I can afford to spend my first engagement testing it, and continue after its success._

"Like I said before, I need to examine the specs of my weapon."

C.C. took off her visor. "Roger that."

* * *

><p>They approached the squad in the rear, the one with the most visors removed. Six men.<p>

"Halt. Identification and weapons."

"Yes, sir." Lelouch removed his visor. The power flowed through his eye, making contact with each of the six men's eyes, except one. The first five's eyes went blank, but the sixth's gave no response. Lelouch then locked on to the last soldier's eyes, and he went blank. _Eye contact is required._

"Shoot anyone with a visor on here, then approach the other squads without drawing suspicion. Wait for orders through radio."

Those with visors on reacted with surprise, one savvy soldier drawing his weapon.

Those without opened fire.

When they were finished, Lelouch and C.C. ducked behind some rubble.

"That was surprisingly thorough for a first test, Lelouch."

Lelouch didn't say anything, due to his activated radio. Instead, he began thinking.

_An immediate command, a distanced command, and a long-term command. Let's see if all of them go through._

"Mhmm. Getting smarter, I see."

Immediately when the shots were fired, two of the squads approached the source of fire. They were puzzled by the calm approach of six of the rearguard.

_What will they do?_

"Rearguard squad, what are you doing? Report, rearguard!"

…

"Rearguard reporting. Stretching our legs."

"Just taking a walk, sir."

Lelouch sighed in relief. _Phase two is complete. Now, phase three._

He spoke. "Prime your grenades. Run towards as many soldiers as you can."

He and C.C. just watched the small figures run and explode.

"The G1 Base personnel should be alert now. C.C., we're going while the other two squads run amok. I don't expect there to be too many soldiers inside a base so heavily defended. "

They ran into the panicked chaos, visors and facemasks hiding their features. Soon, they were at the entrance of the base.

C.C. looked at Lelouch. He nodded.

She opened the door, and she and Lelouch slipped inside.

Immediately, darkness greeted them.

"Seems like someone forgot to turn on the lights." C.C. peered around the corner, making sure that the entrance was clear.

"Hm. This will be easier than I thought." Lelouch strode boldly forward, C.C. following in a confident walk.

"You know, we look like pompous idiots."

_How else to convince "command" that we have "urgent" orders?_

"Touche. Soldiers."

"Right." Lelouch removed his faceplate. "Excuse me. I need to see your identification. We've had a security breach outside."

The five soldiers looked at each other. "We're not supposed to leave our post, sir."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "I asked to see your IDs, not to leave your posts. Are they manning secure positions with idiots now? Identification, now."

"Erm." The one doing the speaking looked nervous, but he nodded. "Yes, sir."

They took off their faceplates and visors, and took our their identification cards.

"Good. Now, you will-"

* * *

><p>Six soldiers marched into the command center's planning room. They stood at the exit, sealing off any opportunities to escape.<p>

"What is it, soldiers?" The tacticians raised his head from the display.

On the throne, his charge in uniform barely gave any indication. Guilford kept by her side.

One soldier simply lowered his visor and looked back at the tacticians. "Secure Cornelia's knight." He pointed at Sir Guilford.

"Yes, sir."

Guilford hesitated in disbelief, but then realized how serious the situation was when the five other soldiers brought their rifles up.

"What is the meaning of this, soldiers?" Cornelia stood, a haggard look in her eyes. "Stand down, all of you."

_Damnit! Treason, that's all there is to it. I must protect Cornelia!_

Guilford went for his gun and dove for Cornelia. However-

The main soldier just nodded.

An alien sensation struck his back, then filled his mind.

He fell to the ground, his leg in tatters, his arm removed at the elbow, his neck broken.

Bone fragments caused spikes of pain to jump throughout his muscles. The blood pooled-

He opened his eyes.

He was alright. He was intact. He had just fell.

"Guilford!"

His charge- His commander- His princess was calling him. She was desperate, and when he saw her, she was being held down by two soldiers. Two Britannians. How-?

He was being held by four tacticians as well. He struggled, successfully slipping out of one's grasp-

"I don't think so."

* * *

><p>C.C. had taken out Cornelia's knight quite nicely. Lelouch was surprised that she actually got behind him. <em>Cornelia needs to recruit someone more … aware.<em>

Still, he had a use for him.

Lelouch walked up to Guilford, held in place by the four tacticians and watched with a wary eye by C.C.. "So, knight."

"Who are you? Let Guilford go!" Cornelia bucked against the soldier's hold, but she stopped when a rifle was held in front of her face.

"Hm. You have a name. So, Guilford. You will exit through that door, and you will sound the all-clear and a cease fire. Then, you will forget the occurrence here." The sensation of his power, of Geass, filled his left eye.

"Yes, sir."

Cornelia looked stricken. "Guilford? What's going on?"

He simply walked out.

Cornelia, to her credit, only remained in shock for a single moment. Then, she wrestled against the guards to turn to Lelouch. "You bastard! What did you do to my knight?"

"Presumptuous as always, Cornelia. Though it might be hypocritical of me to say so. After all, isn't a prodigal son the most presumptuous of all?"

"Who are you? I demand that you let me go. You terrorists are surrounded by my best forces!"

"We were able to enter surrounded by your best forces. I would hate to see what your worst forces are." Lelouch smiled when Cornelia struggled even harder. "As to who I am …" He removed his helmet. "It is I, Lelouch vi Britannia. You're in check. Your move."

Her eyes widened. "Lelouch? You were in Japan all of this time? You can't be-"

"You sound like you actually care." A hard expression crossed Lelouch's face. "A shame. I don't suppose you care about Nunnally as well?"

"… So you actually are Lelouch." With that, Cornelia's shoulders slumped, her head bowing down. "I see. Then perhaps I deserve this."

"What?" Now, Lelouch was surprised. "What do you mean, Cornelia?"

"It's nothing."

"It is not, dear sister. What is it?"

"I am defeated, just like you've defeated me in chess. This brings back memories, doesn't it? I always leapt to Euphemia's defense whenever you crushed her in chess. Strange, that even in a real battlefield, you defeat me."

"You-! Don't make me laugh. You 'deserve' this?"

"What's there to explain?"

"My mother. Is this some guilt-"

"You're caught up in your games, Lelouch, that you don't know the bigger picture."

"What do you mean, Cornelia?"

"I can only see one course of action, Lelouch. You're going to hold me hostage, and you're going to negotiate my release with Guilford. It was a smart move to send someone to tell everyone about a royal hostage, but Guilford is far more competent than you. Though I can't imagine what you were thinking, trying to order him around. He was just pretending, brother. I knew your game. I played along."

"Heh." Lelouch covered his mouth. "Ha."

And the laughter burst from the floodgates, Lelouch laughing in Cornelia' face.

He finally stopped, sighing. "Cornelia, why didn't Guilford storm in here yet?"

"Because-" And Cornelia could not respond. She understood. She paled.

"If what you're saying is true, then he should have brought an entire division up here already. But he hasn't. I'm sure he isn't taking a stroll, if he is your knight. If he is your knight …" Lelouch chuckled. "… Then he would actually care. I'm still waiting. I'll give him a minute or so."

Silence reigned for one, then two, then five. Lelouch broke it. "So imagine … What if Guilford actually worked for me?"

"… You bastard." All pretenses of regret or confidence, the expressions Cornelia played on before, vanished.

"Finally, all tasks at hand are complete. Now, you will answer my question." Lelouch bent down. He gazed into Cornelia's eyes. A subtle heat filled his left eye, the sheer force of Alaya's will, the will of mankind, manifested. Expelled into Cornelia's mind, it locked her will for that moment, ready to be molded by Lelouch's commands. The power did not merely appeal to Cornelia's nature. It dominated it.

"Answer my questions. Who killed my mother, Cornelia?"

Cornelia's gaze became blank. "I cannot say."

"What? Then who knows?"

"…"

"You were in charge of her personal guard, and you deserted your posts. Tell me, who told you to? Tell me now!"

"Lady Marianne. She wanted us to leave that day."

_That's impossible. Mother knew she would be attacked that day? If she did, she would have gotten us out of there! _

Lelouch began trembling. "What really happened back there? Who killed her? Who killed my mother, dammit!"

There was no response.

"Who knows, then? You personally led the investigation, didn't you?"

"All I found was that His Majesty ordered Schneizel to dispose of the body."

_As I thought. Father, it came from you. _

"Why are you here? You were supposed to be leading the campaign in Saudi Arabia."

"I was ordered here by His Majesty. There was a Code R emergency."

"Code R?"

"A threat to the Emperor's Immortals and an-" Cornelia struggled, hesitating in sharp contrast to the fluid ease she had when she answered Lelouch's questions before. "-an –an obstacle to Fuyuki."

_Is my power wearing off?_ "Fuyuki? What's that?"

Silence.

_So she can't answer questions she doesn't know._

"Fine. Was this emergency the cause of your attack here, to investigate your missing Immortal?"

"No. Our forces were attacked at 1020 hours. I was called here to help Clovis's inept forces."

"I see. That's all."

His sister's eyes became alert again. "No, Guilford would never betray me. You lie, Lelouch! You-"

"Cornelia. Look at the time."

She didn't respond. She didn't have much left to say.

Lelouch stepped away, crossing his arms. "You know this is it. I'll congratulate you on becoming the first truly Britannian casualty in this war. C.C. …"

C.C. placed her hand on Cornelia's head.

Before C.C. enacted her Code, he turned to Cornelia.

"I'll be sure to take good care of Euphemia."

* * *

><p>Lelouch felt slightly sick.<p>

_I'm becoming like them. _

"Yes, you are."

C.C. led the way, guiding Lelouch out of the G1 Base, and past the soldiers gathering the bodies of their comrades outside. The tinny voice of Cornelia's knight rang out over the battlefield through the speakers. "The battlefield is all clear. Cease fire now. The battlefield is all clear."

Those words from Lelouch's Geass command called to mind his commands for the other soldiers.

_To the first soldier:_

_Take and plant all of the C4 in the armory throughout the G1 base with thirty second timers. Then, engage the soldiers outside on my command._

_To the other four soldiers:_

_You will follow me, and when I tell you to fire, you will open fire at whoever I am pointing at. On my command, detonate the C4 explosives inside the base._

Lelouch activated his radio. "And here we go. Open fire. Detonate."

Gunfire cracked on the opposite side of the base. Lelouch and C.C. started running, along with a few other soldiers.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then, the C4 exploded.

Purple metal crumpled and burst. The remaining C4 in the armory vaporized half of the G1 Base, and an entire squad vanished. The command bridge was relatively unscathed, but the blast threw it up a few feet, before it came crashing down. The other half blasted forwards, squashing the soldiers in front like so many insects.

Lelouch and C.C. were thrown to the ground.

"Ow."

"So the conqueror graces us with an undignified grunt."

C.C. quickly got up, Lelouch following after scrambling to his feet.

_She switches quickly between combat professionalism and a soldier's banter. Is it a tactic for distracting herself? Or me? I killed too quickly. But all the same, if I have to become the same as my family to bring peace for Nunnally, then so be it._

"Can you get us a car, C.C.?"

"Sure. Are you alright, Lelouch?"

Lelouch, naturally, was surprised. "I am. I never thought-"

"Good. Now what?" C.C. crouched, fixing up the wires in the car on the side of the road.

"Now then … we find Shirou and his friend."

* * *

><p>Lelouch had closed the door of the command center, which also, incidentally, was a command bunker. The blast merely lifted the bridge up into the air, but the gouts of flame and combusted high explosive took its toll on the structure.<p>

Gilford coughed, and stood in the wreckage. The door to the interior planning room was open, and he limped in.

"Guilford." A hacking cough followed.

"Princess Cornelia!" Guilford staggered over to his charge's position. He knelt.

Surrounded by four bodies, she had escaped the brunt of the blast under the throne. However, the shrapnel had cut into her, and the bleeding …

"What happened, Guilford?"

"Princess, I-" _I don't remember._ "We were attacked."

"I'm dying, aren't-" She coughed more, blood dripping from the sides of her mouth. "Aren't I."

Guilford nodded, trying to suppress his tears. "I failed you as your-"

"Shhh." Her hand reached out, touching Guilford's cheek. "I need-" Her coughing intensified. "-you to promise me. Protect Euphy."

"I will-"

"No, _protect_ her. You and Dalton, and everyone-" Blood dripped down, pooling on the ground. "-else's oaths to me are here and now given to my sister. Serve her as you served me. No one else."

"Yes, Cornelia." Guilford broke protocol, and caressed Cornelia's face.

"Swear it."

"On my honor."

"And please, tell her I'm sorry. Goodbye, Guilford. I love you."

Guilford let her go.

* * *

><p>Shirou set Saber down. He was tired, and they were on the outskirts of Shinjuku.<p>

She was so small, so helpless. Her arms stopped bleeding, but she was still unconscious.

"Saber. Saber. Wake up."

She didn't.

She's still breathing, but she might have lost too much blood. How can I help her? Only she can tell me what she needs.

"Saber, you have to wake up." He shook her lightly. Her eyes fluttered. Her eyes opened, and she looked at Shirou.

He sighed in relief, and held her shoulders.

The pain from the grasp was dulled from her recovery, but she still felt the sharp torment coursing through her arms. Saber winced.

"Saber. How are you injured?" Shirou began looking Saber over, checking for any obvious wounds. He tried to examine her arms, but she pulled away.

"I am fine, Shirou. You did not need to concern yourself with me."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "You're being stubborn. C'mon, let's get you up." He got up and held out his hand.

Saber looked at it tentatively. "I can get up by myself, Shirou. Thank you." She placed a gauntlet on the ground, and tried to push herself up from her seated position. She gritted her teeth as her hand came into light contact with the ground. She tried harder, but she couldn't take it. Her arms were unable to carry her weight, as she attempted to lean forward, to use the wall to support herself.

_Now, Shirou has most likely lost all of his respect for me. I am no knight-_

"Well, Saber." Shirou crouched down, looking at Saber with a strangely unreadable expression. "Do you need help?"

She lowered her gaze, hesitant to speak. Then, "Yes. My arms are not in the best condition. Can you assist me, Shirou?"

"Alright." Shirou moved his arms under Saber's back and legs, but she shook her head.

"Shirou, I can stand and walk. I do not wish to be carried."

Shirou gave a gentle smile. "Good. I'm glad you can still take care of yourself." He moved his hands to gently grasp Saber's shoulders, and guided Saber's movement upright. All the while, he kept the thoughts of the recent conflict out.

Saber spoke softly. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I still have to get us out of here." He turned slightly away from Saber, a slight flush entering his cheeks. "I think the best way to leave is to pretend we're lost students. Can you change into your uniform?"

"Of course, Shirou. I am finished."

"Uh, well-" He couldn't help himself, and he rotated his field of vision to see Saber in the corner of his eye, to check if she actually did change that fast, or was in the middle of changing. And she was actually done. "How did you do that?"

"I will save my explanation for later."

"Right, so we're going to leave. We have to go quickly." Shirou took off his jacket and placed it on Saber. "I think we should try to talk our way out of confrontations from here. We can try to pull that trick again."

"Understood." Saber appreciated Shirou's gesture. The length of the jacket allowed her to hide her trembling arms, and if she needed to draw her weapon. "… What trick, Shirou?"

"Um. Well, soldiers are more sympathetic to an injured girl."

Saber blinked. "Very well."

A screeching of tires caused both of them to jump. The noise of an approaching vehicle grew louder and louder.

Shirou walked alongside Saber, between her and the car, hoping the driver of that car didn't bother them.

The car slowed down, stopping right in from of the pair. The passengers, two Britannian soldiers, got out. Their weapons were at their sides.

Shirou leaned down and whispered to Saber. "Let me handle this."

He looked at the soldiers square in the eyes. "Excuse me, we're from Ashford. Could-"

The first soldier interrupted. "We know you go to Ashford, Shirou."

"What?" That was the last word Shirou had expected from the soldier. "How do you know my name?"

"You don't- Right." The soldier took off his helmet. "I completely forgot about the helmet. Hello, Shirou."

Shirou was speechless for a good ten seconds. "Lelouch? You're a Britannian soldier?"

Lelouch chuckled. "No, nothing of the sort. My friend and I were looking for you, and we picked up some uniforms along the way. Are you looking for transportation out of here?"

Shirou nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

"Not a problem."

"… You're being vague on purpose, aren't you? How'd you get those, really?"

They all entered the car as Lelouch replied. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Besides, I'm not going to inquire what exactly you were doing bringing a lady into a terrorist hotspot."

Lelouch's friend in the back chimed in. "Unless that was your idea of a date."

"C.C., not now." _I had told her not to talk. This is going to lead to some annoying questions. Still, it couldn't be avoided._

"So, someone's a bit of a hypocrite. Who's your friend, Lelouch?" Shirou briefly smiled, but his attention was focused on Saber's silence. _She's pretty quiet. I hope she's alright._

"I supposed we should all introduce each other. C.C., this is Shirou, a good friend of mine. His friend is Saber."

"A pleasure." C.C. sounded distracted. Admittedly, she was driving, but she kept glancing at Saber.

Saber remained silent, and Shirou followed suit. Lelouch, for once, was at a loss for words. He understood when it was time to speak, and when it was time to allow his friend some privacy.

C.C., most of all, understood what was happening. They had seen war firsthand, no matter how murky the involvement of Lelouch's friend was. The status quo would protect them, for now.

They drove uneventfully to the Emiya residence. It was strange, that a violent endeavor would end with such tranquility.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> So.

I don't really know what to say.

Part of me wants to blame my studies as an engineer, as a lawyer, as an investment banker. To blame my 80+ hours spent on creating art for this fic, and 20+ hours on this chapter, only to lose it when my hard drive went down, as Mr. Sparkles can attest. Part of me blames my perfectionism, that no matter how many times I run this through my mind, there isn't any way I can capture all of my thoughts here. In my mind, F/NA was finished the start of last semester. Indeed, today marks the anniversary of F/NA's birth.

But in reality, it comes from myself. Yeah, I'm a tad dramatic. I express myself best with dramatic freewriting, stream of consciousness, True Art Is Angsty. (There you go, TV Tropers.) I've been trying to juggle real life with the world I've created. You know, it's quite easy to just jump into the world you've made, and live it out in every spare waking moment. I've placed myself in Shirou's shoes on the train, Saber's armor in Contemporary Civilizations, Lelouch's eyes in the law library. I realized that I cannot capture the world I created in mere writing. Everyone's going to see my creation differently. No matter what, I will never convey in full what intricacies the world encompasses, what Lelouch thinks of Saber and Shirou' philosophies, what Suzaku and Shirou will fight and die for once they meet, what connection Servants and Immortals share. So I spent some time soul-searching.

As an engineer, I don't believe in cutting corners or hiding facts. Here goes.

I am not giving up on this world I made. I've already planned out the plot, the characters, the interactions. All I need is time. Don't expect me to finish anytime soon, but I am going to do my utmost to update when I can. My studies will only intensify over the next year, and I regret only discovering anime last year. Yeah, my update speed is pretty terrible.

Art and the next chapter will come out together.

Fan-created characters will appear in more dignified introductions. My apologies, Mr. Sparkles and The Philosopher King. I'll try my best to get them up.

Projected completion time: At the rate I'm going … 2015, and that's a conservative estimate. I guess I aimed too high for my first fanfic. Still, I've never given up on a project before, and I'm not planning to for this. Feel free to drop in and out, but I'll always value any advice you have to offer.

The elephant in the room. C.C. being a mind-reading Immortal commando. That was a remnant of the origin of F/NA. This fic started out as a C.C. centric story, based on a "what-if" of the possibility of multiple Code-bearers. Then, it expanded to multiple, Immortal spies and soldiers. Then, I watched F/SN. "What if Britannia pitted its might against Servants?" Well, that was the motivation for all the action scenes so far, but I wanted to keep my original idea somewhere inside. And so appeared the Immortals, the only agents who could have kept the Fourth Grail War from destabilizing Britannia's bid for Japan, and Britannia's only tools against Servants. To create some sort of variety, I thought that taking a part of the contractee's Geass would be useful. However, that would have broken the story, since Immortal soldiers who can control thoughts, read minds, and stop time perception would be … bad.

So yes, I rewrote that bit out. Still, the Code does allow for limited mind-reading (see Suzaku's little acid trip with distinctly Freudian overtones in the Battle for Shatter Mountain). Since Immortals are trained to use their Code for imposing psychedelic experiences on human beings, I thought it realistic that some would gain an aptitude for receiving experiences as well. A "decrypting" of the Code, so to speak. With the transmission of the Code's power along metallic surfaces (ahem, the Lancelot), the Immortals become weapons of mass delirium, wrecking the weak-minded. And since the Code's influence should affect all human beings, then Servants are not exempt. I believe I may have spoiled a bit much, but I've received too many questions to leave it alone.

Saber Alter as Britannia's King Arthur, Vortigern. There was an explanation here, but it has been stricken out because of spoilers.

I highly, HIGHLY advice reading Chapter 5 The Day A New Fiend Was Born. Suzaku and Rin interaction.

Reviews:

**KizaruBoss1**: Sorry, no Excaliblasting. Though *hint hint* with Saber's power being based on a far greater belief than in F/SN, I would imagine that she could use it more than her F/SN counterpart.

**EVA-Saiyajin**: Those ripples have far more implications than anyone could imagine. *ominous music* I mean, how could Odysseus become a Master? What does that mean for Lelouch? Hmmm.

**AsskickingEqualsAsskicking**: I think I covered most of your questions above. Thanks for reviewing the specific ideas in the chapters. Your advice is greatly appreciated.

**MisterSP**: Thank you so much for your questions. They've helped me so much in searching for errors and revising this fic. I won't repost my PM response, as it was obscenely long and incredibly dense. I look forward to more of your questions for revision and possible plotlines.

**Lycosyncher**: Well, hopefully, the battle played out well. And Diethard will have prime material very, very soon.

**Thanatos**: I'll repost my response for propriety:

"I won't spoil next chapter, but thank you so much for your review. I did think about making Rider a future-Kururugi, but that would create WAY too many plot holes and absolute insanity. Besides, the current Rider plays a far more important role than a Kururugi would, concerning the fate of Britannia.

There will be a lot of Shirou vs. Suzaku. A. LOT. Two hotheads duking it out.

I did consider having C.C. meet Saber in the past. However, C.C., according to CG canon, existed when monasteries were present. The Arthurian legend, unfortunately, only truly starts around (at best estimates) at ~600-~700 AD, making it quite iffy for C.C. to ever had encountered King Arturia. Saber is a knight only by legend, and has received her powers and armament from this. Her personality and memories, however, are not tainted by legend, but she has the benefit of knowing her legend and acting accordingly. Where her memories end and her legend begins, according to Nasu's (quite frankly) asspull history, is up for my interpretation. I will stick to Nasuverse and Code Geass canon as much as possible. Now, if Joan of Arc were summoned ... The Witch of Britannia vs. the Witch of France. Heh.

Fixed names, thank you so much for that.

And thank you so much for the review. It means a lot to me that someone thinks my story is good. If you send me a reply, odds are I won't be able to answer. My apologies in advance."

Concerning your note on Joan: Joan of Arc is the Witch of France in CG. Joan of Arc is a referee of the Grail War in Fate/Apocrypha. Hmm.

**Aiur**: Hoo boy. You gave me a load of trouble. Still, I have to hand it to you. Thank you for pointing out the detracting points in this fic.

First off, C.C. has been rewritten, and the above explanation should suffice. I'm moving the Lelouch/Sakura interaction into the next chapter.

Second off, pacing. Unfortunately, I have to disagree with you here. Sadly, I write a lot for short spans of time. We're currently at Episode 2 in Code Geass. Yeah, there wasn't much plot development there, and there isn't plot development here either. Plot will come after the obligatory resolution of first contact. I expect plot to come a bit easier than action, but that all comes up in the next few chapters. So yes, there's a calm before the storm.

Third off, the scenes with Lelouch were rewritten, and I hope this chapter establishes the lack of unnecessary, flamboyant displays of intelligence, and a keen sense of practicality tempered by a bit of cruel indulgence. Originally, that was supposed to be C.C. carrying Lelouch into his house, using Mao's Geass to read Sayoko, and then Lelouch's Geass to order her around. That was silly, and it was fixed. Concerning recruitment, in the early stages, Lelouch would not want to show the Japanese that he had a few Britannian cronies running with him. Now, here, he makes use of the Britannians.

Thank you so much for the advice.

**Jigoku no Yami**: Of course, but please, follow protocol. Write a detailed character description (Describe the character in detail. His role is the most important part. Then personality and qualities. Then appearance. More would be great.). Then, a 500 character review would go a long way to making me amiable to said character. Unless you want him eaten by sharks. In a pool of steaming lava. With acid stripping the living- well, you know.

Now, for my good friend Mr. Sparkles. He is the driving, questioning intellectual force behind this fic. Thank you for helping me bounce ideas on Servants, knightmares, Madoka, and techers. And that damn sparkler up his ass.

I think that's it. Edits may float in sometime.

Thank you, dear readers. It is quite the pleasure. Read and Review. It truly means so much to me.

HeavyValor out.

* * *

><p>Omake #1: Spinzaku vs. Saber.<p>

"For promised victory."

Saber sped towards her target, the giant likewise. The giant had an obvious advantage in height and weight, but Saber had-

_What is the giant doing?_

The white titan began spinning in midair, until it became stationary, the lift from the revolutions of its outstretched leg causing it to rise.

"That is absolute madness." Nevertheless, Saber leapt, sword outstretched. Her blade soon touched the blurring foot. She braced herself.

The foot passed effortlessly, falling off in a clean cut.

Saber's path was not impeded by the bizarre attack. Every revolution that the giant made caused more of its material to be lost. Saber just proceeded to cleave her way toward the body of the giant.

She decapitated the giant in one blow, with a full circle cut. She landed, and observed her work.

The giant came crashing down, only its leg remaining of the four limbs it possessed. Saber allowed herself a simple smile, and turned away.

The pneumatic hiss caused her to spin around. A hatch opened, and-

"Hyaaa!" A shout filled the air, Suzaku Kururugi easily crossing the gap between the fallen Lancelot and that … thing.

_There is no way that thing can dodge me now. I'll capture it for Lloyd and Tohsaka!_

He spun, his foot gaining a significant amount of kinetic energy. Possibly enough to shatter steel, if we believe a certain episode.

It didn't matter. Saber brought her blade up. She didn't even need to strike.

Suzaku's thigh collided with Saber's sword. Skin, muscle, bone, were simply disconnected from their host. His leg spun away, and Suzaku landed on his side.

"Arrrggh-!" Suzaku crawled on the ground. _My leg … Where's my leg?_

"I must complement you for your … courage, but you were a fool to present a vital part to me for my blade."

Suzaku turned to the beautiful voice, the face that owned it similarly so.

Such a beautiful girl. In this sunlight, on this battlefield, what is she doing here?

"Ma'am … please leave. There's a … weapon out here." Suzaku's breaths became labored, difficult.

She raised her arm out to him, offering to help him get up. Her hand shimmered, but that was just a trick of the light.

"Ma'am, I- I can't get up. Save yourself."

She walked forwards slowly. A prick, then a cut appeared on his chest.

"I can't get up! L-leave, please! I can't be helped."

_Why am I being cut? She has to go now! I can't walk. Why is she offering her hand to me?_

Then he noticed the shimmer again, from the girl's hand, along a broad line, touching his chest.

Saber pitied her enemy. There was no way for him to survive, with his muscle and bone exposed. The blood loss would kill him. She was holding her sword towards his chest, and he was becoming delusional about how he couldn't get up. Perhaps he was begging for mercy.

She gave him the last comfort she could, smiling kindly, her eyes warm.

The sound of the blade slipping into his heart was the last sound Suzaku heard.


	12. Side Materials: Fate Zero Eos

**AN: **Yep, here's something to whet your appetite while the next chapter makes it way out. All credit to Mr. Sparkles, I did nothing but edit.

By the way, here's come art to look at (and what I've been doing for the past few weeks):

Copy/paste link in browser and eliminate spaces to go to the art.

Knight of Heroes and Demon of the Root http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery /#/ d4oj62m

The Sword and the Grail: Ascension http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj0wf

The Sword and the Grail: Expansion http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj19t

The Sword and the Grail: Obsession http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj1j4

The Four Cadets http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj3ph

And without further ado, the pilot of Fate/Zero Eos.

* * *

><p>Side Materials: Pilot of FateZero Eos

Prologue: Untold Story

August 2007, 9 Years ago (from the standards of Fate/Stay Night)

Mojave Desert, Nevada Province, Britannia (Area 1), Holy Empire of Britannia

* * *

><p>Cadet 1st Class Monica Kruszewski uncomfortably adjusted the collar of her dress uniform as she stared out the bus window. For all its harsh inhospitability, the endless hills and rolling dune of the Mojave Desert had their own kind of rough beauty. Here and there, a few cacti stuck their stubby green middle fingers at the desolation around them. The endless sand seemed to stretch into the horizon, dotted only by a few hardy shrubs.<p>

After a few hours, though, the beauty of nature had long since worn off.

Next to her, Airman Dorothea Ernst's loud snores made clear her interest in Mother Nature. Monica's mentor at the Air Force Academy, Ernst seemed unperturbed by the glaring sunlight. Monica gently pushed Ernst off her shoulder, sighing. Beautiful, confident and a born leader, the dark-skinned idol of the Britannian Imperial Air Force Academy looked quite a bit less respectable when asleep.

Not that she could be blamed for sleeping—At 0300, Monica, Ernst and several of the other air force cadets had been woken up and bundled into a military bus. Painted in Britannian blues, reds, and whites, the bus was a modification of a popular civilian model commonly used by Chinese-Britannian immigrants back in New York.

Then again, Monica conceded, Chinatown buses were not manned by Military Police with guns. Dressed in full combat armor, the MPs had remained tight-lipped to the cadets' questions, for all intents and purposes, robots behind their opaque combat gear.

The fact that the soldiers had left them to their own devices suggested that they were not about to face a summary court martial (it had happened before—with terrorists such as the Sons of Liberty and the Liberation Army of Gran Columbia always looking for a weak point, the Office of Secret Intelligence was constantly on the prowl for dissent). _Yet,_ Monica wondered, _why would we be woken up without any forewarning? _

Moments later, the bus stopped in front of a heavily fortified gate.

Whatever they were here for, they would find out soon enough.

* * *

><p>Air Force Flight Test Center, Detachment 3 - more commonly known as Area 51, this barren airfield was the birthplace of many a conspiracy theory, from a weather controller to an alien research facility.<p>

If they were trying to control the weather, Earl Lloyd Asplund grumbled, they had surely failed.

The Nevada sun was harsh to most people—but for a man of Science who rarely ventured out, it was unforgiving.

The 20-year old Earl crawled on all fours as he scrambled across the Tarmac, too dehydrated to care about the concerned-looking Military Police who called to him.

_Almost…there…_

The silo door was only a few steps away, the only barrier between Lloyd and the refreshing paradise of Central Air Conditioning.

With a doglike pant, Lloyd dragged himself forwards and reached for the doorknob with sweaty, trembling hands—

—And then the silo door swung open, slamming him in the face. With a soundless cry of pain, he curled into a fetal position. He whimpered. The blasted heat, and now this-!

"Nice weather, isn't it, Earl of Pudding?"

"A cool day for the insane, I'm sure." Reinvigorated by the burst of cold air, Lloyd got up and strode inside without giving a glance to the young Indian woman who had been his assailant. Like Lloyd, Rakshata Chawla wore the half-suit, half military uniform of the Imperial Colchester Institute of Technology. Sponsored directly by the Britannian Military, Colchester was probably the best Engineering School that a prospective student could attend for free. Graduates could expect a 100% employment rate by the Britannian Military, though most simply walked into the waiting arms of the countless Corporate Entities that dominated the Imperial Senate.

"You wouldn't last a day where I came from," Rakshata noted airily. One year Lloyd's junior, Rakshata had jumped head and shoulders over her peers and entered his year—to his chagrin.

"I'm sorry I wasn't born in hell, but I do envy the experience," Lloyd replied with equal magnanimity.

"Stop bickering, you two, and help me out." Professor George Ashford yelled from across the room. It was common knowledge that the two most brilliant students in the CIT Undergraduate Class of 2010 mixed like burning oil and water. The fact that they often worked in the same projects meant that the conflict embodied something of a small war.

Grudgingly discarding his verbal rapier, Lloyd looked up at the giant metal scaffold on which his professor was perched. Surrounded by a cheap metal framework stood what looked like a giant suit of chivalric armor, clad in undecorated sheet metal.

The Glasgow Project.

It had been in development for several years.

And, in a few minutes, it would change the face of modern warfare.

* * *

><p>Some of the guests at this outing were intrigued by the location. Some of the more imaginative nobles talked of possibly being the first to greet an Alien Race, or the discovery of some ancient Time Machine, or of Freemasons and Illuminati, the usual bits of half-occultist gossip.<p>

Tohsaka Tokiomi was not remotely interested.

To Tokiomi, the life of the average human was as mysterious as that of any extraterrestrial.

After all, he was a Magus.

He was not particularly interested in the affairs of nonmagus, particularly not in this arms demonstration in this barren desert so far away from his home in Fuyuki.

Yet he was a high-ranking member of the Magus Association, and a representative of his region of Japan. Procedures and formalities had to be obeyed, and as head of the Tohsaka house he had a duty to obey them. And so he adjusted his starched crimson suit and put on a hearty (albeit sweaty) smile as an old man in a priest's frock walked up to him. Risei Kotomine nodded in way of greeting.

"You seem to be adjusting well," Tohsaka remarked. The old priest didn't seem to be breaking a sweat in the weather.

"Beats Iraq," Risei replied. "I see the association didn't let you refuse either."

"Of course. Welcoming fellows," Tokiomi replied with an airy laugh.

Kotomine shook his head. "Welcoming? They can barely wait to get rid of me." In a nation that looked down on the decadent beliefs of old Europe, a Catholic priest was hardly welcome. But as liaison to the Holy Church, Risei Kotomine was the only member of the clergy that the Magus Association considered lowly enough to be condescendingly invited and high-ranked enough to make a difference.

To Tokiomi, on the other hand, Risei was a friend. The Tohsaka, as Magus with links to the Church, had always maintained good ties with the Kotomine, clergy with magical potential. To Tokiomi, Risei Kotomine was a second father. He had married Tokiomi, his father, and his grandfather. At over 75, Risei had met Tokiomi's great-grandfather during that last conflict 60 years ago.

The Holy Grail War.

The one that Tohsaka Tokiomi was now preparing to fight.

"How are negotiations?"

Risei sighed. "A bit difficult. The Curia is fine with it, but the Burial Agency doesn't seem too pleased. From what Kirei told me, they were planning on just going in with Executors and just taking the grail by force."

Tohsaka opened his mouth to reply—just as a blast of sound swept over him. With an inhuman roar, three Britannian Fighter Jets screamed over them at several times the speed of sound. Some of the Magus took a few seconds to recover themselves.

"I suppose we'll talk after this barbaric display," Tohsaka remarked with dignity.

Risei's grizzled face broke into a smile. "Of course. Let's indulge our hosts."

Tohsaka sighed. This was why he disliked going to these shows. Nonmagus did everything so rudely, so brutally, with loud roars and bangs.

And if there was one thing that Tohsaka Tokiomi could consider a crime, it would have to be inelegance.

* * *

><p>"Your Highness!" The Imperial Guard saluted in perfect unison, snapping their elaborate rifles to their shoulders as Emperor Charles zi Britannia entered the booth. Jeremiah Gottwald's eyeballs strayed ever so slightly from their straight paths as he ogled at the individuals who had entered. Knight of Four General Reyes of the Army; Secretary of War Lord Grimsley; Admiral Glenn; Air Force General Upson, among others. Put together all the medals on their chest and you would get a small jewelry shop. However, these generals all seemed to clump together a respectful distance from the Emperor and the child next to him. Jeremiah assumed it was one of the Emperor's many children—for all the slander that the EU and the Chinese Federation directed at the Emperor, nobody could accuse him of impotency. Jeremiah couldn't tell if the child was a prince or a princess.<p>

Yet, the Emperor spoke to the child not with the cold detachment he usually held for most of the Princes, nor the doting expression he had on some of his favorites, but with a kind of subtle respect.

It was strange, the way the grown man spoke with the long, blonde-haired child was not the way a parent spoke to a child, but the way a man spoke to his equal.

For a moment, Jeremiah was tempted to try to catch a strain of the conversation—and then mentally shook his head. Curiosity breeds disloyalty. Jeremiah turned his attention back to ignoring the insistent itch on his back leg.

* * *

><p>The limousine driver mopped his brow to the tune of his favorite death metal band. It reminded him of the old days on the field, hammering out riffs to recoil. Technically, plugging into his MP3 and plugging out of his comset was against regs, but he wasn't going to tell anyone else that.<p>

Unfortunately, Lord Wells did not like Death Metal. In fact, the only thing he allowed were his classical tracks.

_All the more reason to play it twice as loud now._

Even on full AC, the sunlight blazed through the tinted windows. The driver groaned. He did not spend 8 years first in the Imperial Marines and then the Office of Secret Intelligence to cart around some old man. To get in, he had to get through a group of men in old suits and about half the Nevada Imperial Military Police. And now he had to spend a few hours just waiting.

"Hot day, isn't it?"

The driver looked up at the Military Policeman. The man didn't seem too perturbed by the weather. The man proffered a cigarette. Nothing expensive, but the Driver didn't mind.

"Thanks."

The man could be anywhere from twenty to forty, with a light dusting of facial hair and messy dark hair. He smiled wryly. "I can't do it at home. Can't let the wife and kids breathe it."

"I get you," the driver replied heartily. His girlfriend didn't like it either.

"Sorry, but can I check your ID? Regulations."

The driver shrugged. "Sure." He had an OSI clearance, after all.

The Military Police officer gave a casual glance to the ID, and then the Driver. Their eyes met. The MP's eyes seemed opaque, murky. Almost like a vacuum, threatening to suck him in—

Emiya Kiritsugu waved to the limousine driver as he walked off.

* * *

><p>"Main cannon, firing!"<p>

With a muffled whump, the turret of the M-33 Clinton fired its ammunition, rumbling through the Heavy Tank.

"You got them," 2nd Lieutenant Andreas Darlton remarked as he looked away from his periscope. The M-33 was truly an improvement over its M-1 Cousin. With heavier armor, a more powerful engine and electronics amplified with Sakuradite, the M-33 outmaneuvered, outgunned and outsped its predecessor. As if to prove Andreas' point, a bright splotch of Yellow burst appeared on the turret of an M-1 tank. The M-1 grudgingly ground to a halt as a referee shut its electronics down.

Darlton was not a man who often showed his emotions, but he was proud of his men. Drawn from the 4th Armored to participate in this exercise, his men, armed with their new Clinton, had decimated most of their enemies—or at least decimated them as much as a tank armed with paint shells could.

"We can do this, men," Darlton spoke calmly into the radio. His radio operator smiled. In their time in the 4th Armored, they knew that from Darlton this amounted to extravagant praise.

"Alright, men. Let's clean this up."

"The Toromo M-33 Clinton is the newest face of modern warfare," General Reyes explained proudly. The old general's illustrious record went back to the Pacific War, when his armored forces had trampled over countless Pacific Islands. To him, the M-33s were like his grandsons, except they didn't get into cheating scandals at colleges.

Emperor Charles zi Britannia said nothing. The Columbian-born Honorary Britannian had loyally served his father, assisting Charles in his countercoup against Charles' uncle after his assassination. By all means, the man had earned both his Knighthood and his Office.

Yet the man was getting old. Though few knew it yet, war was on the horizon, and General Sir Jorge Reyes would not lead them. The man was a by-the-book tank-and-infantry general. But Charles suspected that such conventional warfare would soon be the thing of the past.

Meanwhile, the M-33s had finished their skirmish, and the referees reactivated the paint-scarred casualties.

"Alright, men, let's pull back," Andreas Darlton ordered.

The Tactical Communications Officer didn't respond. He turned around. "Sir, it seems like the referee wants us to take up positions."

Darlton blinked. The exercise was over. "Against the M-1s?"

The radioman seemed just as confused. "No, sir. With the M-1s."

* * *

><p>"Startup Procedure, Initiate."<p>

"Energy Filler Connection, Check."

"Disengaging external scaffolding."

"Disengaging Wires."

"Starting Up Yggdrasil Drive."

"Turbine Temperature, stabilizing."

"Are you ready, your highness?" The voice of Bismark Waldstein was as calm and expressionless as always.

As the ground crews stepped away, the vast second-floor silo doors began to open, Nevada sunlight flooded in.

Marianne vi Britannia's serene face broke into a mischievous grin as the dark cockpit lit up.

"Glasgow, sortieing in three."

"Two."

"One."

"Mark."

* * *

><p>"General Reyes."<p>

"Yes, your Highness?"

Charles casually stared at the tanks setting up positions on the practice field.

"What was your opinion on the Ganymede project?"

Reyes sniffed. "With all due respect, Your Highness, infantry and armor have always been the driving force on the battlefield. The battlefield has no place for giant marionettes."

* * *

><p>Andreas Darlton stared into the periscope of his M-33.<p>

"Silo doors opening…"

"…Paint shell, ready!"

"Firing!" His M-33 fired with a suppressed whump.

And then, with a whine of screaming metal, two … things screeched off the second floor helipad. With the limited visibility of the periscope, Darlton craned his head up—just as the … things landed in between the first rank of M-1s.

Darlton blinked. He could barely believe the periscope—it looked like a giant suit of armor. Colored in dull green, the giant suit of armor seemed frail, and yet nimble.

The M-1s, aware of the danger, turned their paint-splattered turrets towards the metal thing—and hesitated. Even with paint shells, nobody wanted to shoot their allies, with their targets right in their midst. The humanoid armors had no such qualms. Aiming what were essentially oversized assault rifles, they quickly opened fire, leaving new splotches of scarlet paint on the nearest M-1s.

"All units under my command, move back," Darlton quickly ordered. It was a bit cruel to leave the M-1s to their fate, but even the advanced targeting systems of the M-33 could guarantee a hit on those mechanical armor frames without friendly fire at close range.

The M-33's quickly backed away as the two mechas finished off the hapless M-1s.

"All Units, load and prepare to fire."

With a 400-meter stretch of open space between the line of M-33s and the disabled M-1s, Andreas was confident they would be able to take down the two mechs. They weren't exactly small targets, after all.

The last M-1 was manually deactivated as the mechs cleared the unmoving tanks.

The gunner looked up. "Round ready!"

Andreas nodded. "Fire!"

With another muted cough, the M-33 opened fire, sending its paint shell—right into the hulk of a disabled M-1.

One of the radio operators from another M-33 put Darlton's confusion into words.

"… The fuck?"

Seeing the humanoid machines, Darlton had expected them to break out into some giant, mechanical stride.

Instead, they rolled. The mechas slid with an agility that defied even the fast M-33, leaving clouds of torn-up concrete. Zig-zagging past explosions of paint, the first of the Armor Frames weaved between the M-33s, leaving paint marks on the often unmarked new tanks.

Darlton gritted his teeth. If it came up to a formation, the M-33s could bring down a unit of the Mechas. The problem was that these machines ignored formations. Like a tiger among sheep, the armor frames slid between the M-33s. The M-33s could not fire even if they could keep up—their teammates were only a missed shot away.

"Driver, move us back!" Darlton barked frantically. "Gunner, load!"

"Shell, ready!"

Staring into his sights, Darlton cursed frantically as he glanced back into the periscope—right into the barrel of a paint gun.

"Fuck."

And then, with a dull clang, the M-33 powered down.

Darlton slumped down, wiping the seat off his brow.

The gunner slammed his first against the hull. "Fuck! How was that fair? What was that?"

Andreas Darlton sighed as he leaned back in his seat. He wasn't sure what that was—but he was sure he wanted one.

* * *

><p>Knight of Four, General of the Army Manuel Reyes stared at his paint-splattered M-33's. The red paint that now scarred their previously spotless hulls looked like blood. His blood.<p>

Charles zi Britannia betrayed no emotion as he looked at the general. "I believe you turn seventy-two this February?"

"Yes, milord."

"Perhaps it is time that you retired to your estate."

"Milord …"

The Emperor eyed the general. "Manuel, you've served Britannia for over fifty years. You've led Britannia's armies for most of it. But war is coming, general. And it has no place for you."

Reyes looked to the other generals—and then realized something.

He was, by at least 20 years, the oldest general among them. None of them had served alongside him during the Pacific War. Some of them hadn't even taken part in the recent Indochina conflict. He was the last of his generation, and he could expect not support from this new generation.

He looked back at his Emperor—and yet, the Emperor's eyes betrayed nothing. At last, Manuel Reyes gave up.

"… I will hand you my resignation shortly."

The other Britannian Generals stood aside as Reyes walked through them, off the spectator's booth.

Somehow, he realized that he would never be there again.

* * *

><p>Tohsaka Tokiomi hid his surprise as he watched from the bannisters. Looking around, even some of the magus present seemed a little impressed by the arms display.<p>

"Not quite as ugly as the rest of the things that they come up with." For a magus, to condescend to praising technology was already reasonable praise.

Risei shrugged. "It all comes at the expense of faith." With the advent of the Age of Enlightenment in the 1700's, faith in the church had waned significantly, and it was common knowledge that the Church's exorcists were vastly undermanned.

Tokiomi said nothing. Unlike the Church, whose strength lay in open faith and numbers, the Magus Association's isolation and secrecy had benefited from the age of science and reason, as incongruent as it were with magecraft.

Indeed, the battleground where his great-grandfather fought, the land of Fuyuki his family administered, had transformed in 60 years from a quiet rural hamlet into a bustling city rife with urban development.

"Was it the same in Iraq?"

Risei shook his head. "The Middle East is…too different for either the magus or the church to understand. The only reason they associate with the church is that they consider us a lesser evil than the Association. The monarchs of the Middle Eastern Federation are trying to balance modern technology with an antiquated system of clan politics. I doubt they will succeed."

"A rather sad shadow of a nation, particularly when you bring into consideration the venerable civilization whose ruins their new ugly cities are built on," Tokiomi murmured.

Risei Kotomine smiled. "Fortunately, they haven't gone as far as to destroy their heritage just yet, as these Britannians have done." Few in the church had forgotten Britannia's actions against the Catholics of what had once been the nation of Gran Colombia and now bore the unsightly designation of Area 6.

Still, that was not the information that interested Tokiomi.

"… So you found it then."

"Indeed. The Church is not yet devoid of political power, Tokiomi-san."

Tohsaka Tokiomi smiled, this time with genuine gratitude. "Father Kotomine, you have done the house of Tohsaka a great service. We will be forever be in your debt for this."

"Perhaps you can show that to my son, Kirei."

"Of course." Tohsaka Tokiomi looked up at the sky. The harsh Nevada sun suddenly seemed much milder.

* * *

><p>Cadet 1st Class Monica Kruszewski stared at the two giant humanoid robots that had singlehandedly cleared a field of battle tanks. As Air Force Cadets, she and her peers were not very familiar with how tanks worked, but she was pretty sure that something that could destroy a small unit of tanks was something she had never seen.<p>

Next to the air force cadets, a group of other cadets in Navy Airmen Uniforms seemed similarly shocked.

The cadets had been ushered into the first floor of an empty plane silo, where they had watched the battle at ground level.

With a screech, the two knightmare slid past the disabled M-33s, smoothly skirting the barrel of a tank that had been caught in midfire—towards the silo.

One of the Cadets, in Army Uniform, voiced everyone's thoughts.

"Aren't those things coming…a little close?"

"I think they might crash," Dorothea said nonchalantly as she stepped back.

The armored suits charged towards them with a screech, and the cadets began to move back. Monica tensed herself, preparing to leap backwards—for all the goods it would do her.

The suits charged, still at full speed—and then, suddenly, they stuck one of their legs in front of them, and Monica spotted the large wheels attached to their feet as they decelerated. With a skidding sound, the knightmares closed in—

–and then a blast of sandy wind struck her face, forcing her eyes closed—

—and then silence.

Monica opened her eyes—at the thick, metal legs just twelve inches away from the tip of her nose.

With a pneumatic hiss, something at the back of the Glasgow disengaged, and a familiar-looking woman in a white uniform stepped out. With a casual shake of her head, she loosed a few strands of dark hair from her shoulders as she smiled down at the cadets.

"That's—" One of the cadets stammered.

"Knight of Two—"

"—The Emperor's favored consort—"

"—Empress—"

"—The Flash—"

"Marianne will do," Empress Marianne Vi Britannia, Knight of Two, said as she leapt from the shoulder of the knightmare, landing on the silo soundlessly. Behind her, another figure followed—a man with shoulder-length purple hair and an eyepatch—a person no less illustrious.

"—and this is Bismark," Marianne said, immediately cutting off the little bursts of shocked whispers that came out of the group of Cadets. Nobody in the Cadets would have simply referred to the Knight of One, the most powerful of the Emperor's handpicked Knights of Rounds as "Bismark."

"These," she continued as she gestured at the mechas, "are the Glasgow Knightmare Frames. They will be our new weapons in our next war."

_Next war?_ With the Britannian Intervention in Indochina—no, Area 10 just completed, most Britannians were looking forwards to peace. And yet the Empress was speaking of war.

"These Glasgows are going to have to prove to the world that they are a weapon that is to be feared. They must be fearless, agile, confident, strong."

Monica was starting to realize what was going on as Marianne continued. "And they will need pilots who are equally fearless. Equally agile. Equally confident. Equally strong."

And then Monica froze. The Empress was looking straight at her—no, simply at the unit of cadets. Yet, she felt herself wilt under the Empress's gaze.

"You men and women shall be fearless, as the Celts were against the Romans."

The burst of frantic whispering died away.

"You men and women shall be agile, as our archers laid low the Knights of France."

All eyes locked onto the Empress' gaze.

"You men and women shall be confident, as our sailors were against Spain's 'Invincible Armada'."

Monica felt a tremor shake her body.

"You men and women shall be strong, as our marines were on a thousand islands in the Pacific."

Monica could feel her heart beating against her chest.

"You men and women shall be Britannia. Are you men with me?"

And in that moment, Imperial Knightmare Corps Cadet Monica Kruszewski could feel her own tinny voice join in the chorus as she bellowed "Yes, your Highness" at the top of her lungs.

* * *

><p>"…Target in sight."<p>

The female voice echoed in Emiya Kiritsugu's headphones.

"I see him."

Emiya Kiritsugu moved like a machine, tracking the man through the scope of his Walther WA2000.

Lord Miles mac Ailella.

Aged 43, born in Dublin, Republic of Ireland.

A magus of the Prague Association the main branch of European Magus known for his ties with Boston's Clock Tower, the "capital" of the Britannian Magus Association. Formerly a strong ally of the Alchemical house of Von Einzburn.

Yet, the man had leaked information on the Grail War to Clock Tower.

He would endanger Kiritsugu's mission to Fuyuki.

And so it would be Kiritsugu's duty to eliminate the man.

* * *

><p>"Sir, please stand back."<p>

"Of course, Maire." Lord Miles mac Ailella stood back as his bodyguard, Maire stepped forwards. The half-selkie shook back her perennially wet hair as she stepped forwards.

Miles sighed. He probably shouldn't have hired Maire—selkies were known for their skills of seduction, and Maire seemed to have inherited it from her father.

Then again, the woman would break his arm if he tried.

"Nope, no traces of prana here."

Maire was the ultimate butler—a former Enforcer from the association, before a venture in the Puntland had gotten her a flechette in the knee, her combat skill equaled Miles' skill in politics. No ordinary magus could match a half-spirit.

Maire glanced at the driver suspiciously before sitting in the front seat as Miles sat in the back.

"Some Mendelsohn, please," he requested of the driver, who complied with a touch of reluctance.

* * *

><p>Kiritsugu emotionlessly followed the car with his scope. As expected, the magus had only been alert for attacks via magecraft—and while magecraft could do far more damage than the explosive strapped underneath the seat, the magus' bodyguard hadn't checked. To a magus, who could put up a shield that could resist an anti-tank shell in a few seconds, the only real danger was another magus. They would be waiting for a long-winded spell or at least an influx of prana before an explosion, when a bullet would suffice.<p>

Kiritsugu quietly took a drag on his cigarette. The driver would probably die in the explosion—an innocent by any means. But it would come at a fraction of the cost of the lives that Britannia could take with Miles' information.

The female voice of his assistant, Maiya Hisau, echoed in his head. "Detonating in five."

And then, with a gout of flame, the limousine burst into smoke and flames.

* * *

><p>Charles zi Britannia closed his eyes as he heard the dull whump of the explosion.<p>

He glanced at the boy with foot-length blonde hair. "Brother, should we have just let him get away with that?"

V.V. shrugged. "I would have sent Rollo if he didn't. He knows too much."

"The Holy Grail War … can it really be our weapon against our gods?"

* * *

><p>"This is Japan Airlines Flight 224 from Las Vegas to Hiroshima. It is now 6:43 PM in Las Vegas and 11:43 PM in Hiroshima. Please refrain from using electronic devices while on board."<p>

Tohsaka Tokiomi leaned back as he basked in the reflected sunlight of the clouds.

The First Class seat absorbed him like a sponge. For all its crudeness, commercial airplanes had their amenities.

"Drinks, sir?"

"Tea will be fine."

Tohsaka smiled graciously at the stewardess. He was in a good mood. In a few hours, he would be home with his loving wife and two—no, one, daughter. And he had found what he was looking for.

Carefully, he opened the small metal case in his hands.

The hiss of the gases that preserved its contents came unexpectedly, a slightly unwelcome reminder of the Church's use of technology when it deemed it necessary.

Surrounded by bulletproof glass and nestled on a bed of velvet was an old, crinkly affair—an old snakeskin, preserved beyond its years.

Silly to think such a humble-looking thing would be the catalyst.

With a smile, Tokiomi closed his eyes, condescending to using the airline's noise-cancelling earphones. Hundreds of years of work by the Tohsaka would be completed under him.

After all, with the King of Heroes as his servant, how could he lose?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> So, what did you think? Mr. Sparkles is a good friend of mine, and it was the least I could do to give his idea a boost here. Before anything else, I'd like to thank Mr. Sparkles for all of his efforts, without which this fic would have never existed.

Fate/Zero Eos is a parallel to F/SN's Fate/Zero. Mr. Sparkles is willing to write this in full, if there's enough interest in the pilot. It's completely sanctioned/approved by me, and I wish the best for Mr. Sparkles in his endeavors with the prequel to Fate/Nightmare Apatheia. I may put up a poll to see how many people are interested in this. I know I haven't been too pushy about reviews, but now, more than ever, reviews are crucial to the expansion of the F/NA universe. I've given you a taste of what could be. All I ask is for your input on what you think.

To clarify, while F/NA is under construction by yours truly, F/ZE will be written at the same time by Mr. Sparkles.

And now, for responses to reviews.

**Fangking2: **Rin has summoned Archer. After all, he's way too badass to simply let go, hm?

**HopelessRomanticist:** I'm glad this story updated too. A note to the Cornelia fans: I like Cornelia. I really do. But … I didn't think Clovis should have been the one to die, this time around. In this version of the CG universe, Clovis is a bit smarter, in that he can recognize when he needs to pull out and let someone more capable to handle the job. In canon, the entire reason why he chose to become Viceroy of Area Eleven was out of respect for Lelouch and Nunnally. He's smart enough to realize that with the Grail War starting up, and an Immortal on the loose, he's out of his league. So he calls Cornelia, and the rest is history. I do apologize if it seemed abrupt, but Cornelia's death is a path I'd like to explore, especially with respect to Euphemia.

**Lycosyncer:** Thanks, it was difficult to write up such an epic battle. I hope you'll bear with me as the next chapter is being written, since I'll guarantee that there will be plenty of character exposures and development between Shirou, Saber, Lelouch, and C.C.. Concerning the media, Diethard will have a field day. Heh, heh, heh.

**reality deviant:** Erm. The Power of Kings can only be resisted by Immortals. I'll keep your request in mind, but currently, no Servant, Master, or any being who was or is human can resist the power of Geass, except those who hold the Code.

**Aiur:** I did PM you, but for the benefit of the audience, I'll say some things:

Rin and Suzaku … I didn't want their relationship to mimic any of the paths that Rin and Shirou had in Fate, UBW, or Heaven's Feel. However, the characterization of Suzaku, as different as it may seem from the original, isn't all too off from Shirou's ideals, and is actually going to be quite close to his canon characterization, just interpreted differently.

I love your critiques. Hey, if anyone wants to join in on productive, constructive, useful critiques, I'll welcome them with open arms as well.

**sephiroth12285: **Good day, neighbor! I am quite sorry about not releasing anything directly relevant to the previous chapter. It's tough, being in college. I just hope that these tantalizing tidbits were enough to convince you that it's going to be worth the wait.

**Angry Santo:** Curses, curses, a pox on Reality. Curses, curses indeed!

**EVA-Saiyajin:** So. Currently, the most problematic review of them all. *glares angrily.

I'm just joshing. I'm sorry that I disappointed you, but I have to say that your disappointment is a little unfounded. Noble Phantasms may be above technology, but only in the categories where technology and said Phantasm's roles cross. It would be a rare Hadron Cannon that could best Excalibur, for example. However, just because a Noble Phantasm is noble and powerful from the spirit's legend does not mean it will instantly trump anything other than another Servant's Noble Phantasm.

The Invisible Air still moves with air currents, and if there is a power (i.e. Gate of Babylon, a nuclear missile, etc.) that has a higher power level than the Invisible Air, it will be forced to give way. MASERs are incredibly "powerful" in that respect. High frequency vibrations (at 10^6 Hz, for example), even with low amplitudes (such as 10^-3 m), will transfer energy on the magnitude of 10^6 J, or megajoules. Now, if Noble Phantasms can beat that sort of physics, then this story would go down the tubes, filled with Gilgamesh running around shouting "Mongrels!" and shooting his Gate of Babylon at everything to block attacks and kill his enemies. I did not want the fight to be one-sided, and indeed, the damage done to the Lancelot will have surprisingly dangerous consequences for Lloyd.

I do apologize if I seemed harsh. I just wanted to clarify how physics and Servants interact.

And I think that's it. I'll try to update the newest chapter next week, but odds are, I'll be updating on a monthly basis until spring break. Thank you, kind readers. Don't forget to review, because this time … *dramatic drumroll* … your reviews now count more than ever. You will decide the Fate of Fate/Zero Eos, and you will decide whether it will Stay, or whether it will vanish into the Night. Read and gaze upon the art provided, with the links relisted below:

Knight of Heroes and Demon of the Root http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery /#/ d4oj62m

The Sword and the Grail: Ascension http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj0wf

The Sword and the Grail: Expansion http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj19t

The Sword and the Grail: Obsession http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj1j4

The Four Cadets http:/ heavyvalor. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ d4oj3ph

Thank you.


	13. Side Materials: FZE Eternity War

**AN: **Yep, this is another Side Materials of Zero Eos. Please review this chapter first before reading the next. Mr. Sparkles appreciates it. Thanks!

Oh, and also: ART. Here is a picture of the Immortals featured in this war.

http:/heavyvalor. deviantart. com /art/Five-Immortals-290706179

Eliminate spaces.

**A Warning:** There is a certain scene in this pilot that is fairly graphic, so there will be a warning for when the scene appears. I am currently contemplating raising the maturity level of this fic to M, though this is quite a whiles tamer than several other fics. If you are offended by the scene, I deeply apologize. F/ZE is most likely going to be an M-rated fic, while F/NA was always intended to be T-rated. Thank you.

* * *

><p>Side Materials: Second Pilot of FateZero Eos

Eternity War

[stricken from records] 2009 A.T.B.

Alamut, Kingdom of Persia, Middle Eastern Federation

* * *

><p>Alamut Fortress.<p>

Farsi for "The Eagle's Nest."

Over a millennia ago, an order of warriors had set up base on this mountain.

For two centuries the Asasiyan and their leader, Hassan-i Sabbah watched over Persia from this mountain fortress, hidden in plain sight.

In all its existence, Alamut had never been taken by force of arms.

The Hashashin, as they were called by their enemies, had long since vanished, and the fortress itself had largely crumbled.

That impregnability would be challenged tonight.

The UH-80 Athena sliced soundlessly through the night with its four silenced blades. Unlike the standard model used by the Britannian Air Force, this variant had been built for enhanced stealth.

Completely wrapped in body armor and opaque visors, the occupants of the helicopter were as silent and unmoving as the pagan statues of a bygone era.

Two generations ahead of the ceramic armor of the Britannian Army and Marines, the futuristic armor was jet-black save for a dark crimson figure sewn on the left shoulder.

The Queen of Hearts.

The symbol of the Queen's Rangers.

The elite of the elites of the Britannian Military.

The copilot turned around from the pilots seat as each of the UH-80's stopped. Motioning with his or her hands, each squad's leader led the way as they rappelled down into the moonless night.

* * *

><p>"'…the Assassination of Empress Marianne vi Britannia is seen by many as an act precipitated by the Britannian Nobility, which has always resented the induction of non-nobles into the royal family. This comes as a major blow to the Empress's backers within the Imperial Senate, many of which secured major production contracts thanks to the Empress' influence. This is Abdi Mousa of Al-Jazeera, reporting from Pendragon.'<p>

'Thank you, Mousa. In other news today, Chinese Minister of Foreign Affairs Cheng Anping accused the Britannian Military of aiding rebels in war-torn Annam …'" [1]

The LCD TV flickered for a moment before returning to normal. To be honest, C.C. was surprised that it was working so well at all. That satellite signals could be transmitted half a kilometer underground was a wonder in itself. Of course, the news did not surprise C.C.—whatever reached Al-Jazeera had long since reached the ears of the Geass Directorate.

With a sigh, C.C. turned the TV off with the flick of her hand.

"Is it not to your interest?" The girl behind C.C. looked a little disappointed.

"When Nine Hundred Years you reach, be quite as interested you will not," C.C. quoted wryly.

"Blechh. You're really an old lady inside," Soraya remarked glumly. C.C. smiled thinly. Somebody like Soraya who had only had her Geass for a year had a type of innocence that only an Apprentice Geassholder would have.

Like many of the Geassholders who had been raised from childhood in the vast underground city that was the Geass Directorate, Soraya was fascinated by society outside of the Directorate. The wavy-haired, petite Persian girl had been thrilled when C.C. had chosen her out of the hundreds of geass candidates as an Apprentice Geassholder.

C.C. didn't mind Soraya—an orphan picked up from the many religious battlegrounds of the MEF, Soraya reminded C.C. of herself when she was younger. It was who she was replacing that was the problem.

Of all the many men and women with whom C.C. had cursed with Geass, the power of Kings, none had understood her as Marianne Lamperouge had.

And now, with Marianne killed, the whole plan was in jeopardy.

C.C. stood up as she adjusted her robe.

"Come on, Soraya, we have a meeting to attend."

* * *

><p>Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.<p>

Rollo opened his eyes wearily to the sound of an IV drip.

The same sterile medical lights shone down him. He didn't need to move his arms to feel the usual shackles securing his arms and legs.

He knew exactly what happened—he had blacked out, once again.

It wasn't as if it was unusual—when he had first used his Geass, he had been knocked out for two days.

He had been under the study of the Geass directorate since that day.

For the Directorate, a geass that could completely halt the sense of time without any sensory stimulus was far too rare, far too dangerous to be allowed outside into the world. The fact that it stopped his heart in the process was not of major concern for the directorate.

The priority was to categorize record and analyze the ability for when it would emerge again. Even if it meant sealing the subject away for the rest of his life.

"…You don't want that, do you?"

Rollo remembered that question. The Immortal had thrown it out almost haughtily—casually, like a billionaire carelessly throwing a coin at the feet of a scrabbling beggar.

In a way, it was true.

The Immortals—the Eight Lords that presided over the vast structure of the Geass Directorate.

To the countless nameless orphans who stood at the bottom of the directorate, they may as well have been billionaires.

But Rollo did not mind scrabbling on the ground for that coin. On that day, that he had sold his life to that blonde-haired Immortal for a name and his freedom.

The Blonde-Haired Immortal who now daintily stepped over the dead bodies of the Directorate researchers.

With a careless keystroke, the immortal known as V.V. unlocked the shackles that bound Rollo to the chair he had sat on. Several other shapes walked into the room—men in black uniforms that whispered and muttered into their helmets.

"500 ng/L diluted Epinephrine, prep for injection," one of them ordered to two others, who immediately began rummaging through their bags. Rollo stared blankly. Somehow, he already knew that the drugs would be for him.

V.V., meanwhile, smiled a serene smile at Rollo, as if both of them were on a leisurely picnic.

"Rollo, you remember what you have to do, right?"

"… Yes, milord."

* * *

><p>The guards that stood watch on the battlements of Alamut were not underequipped. Outfitted with night-vision goggles and dressed in military BDUs under their Bakhtiari nomadic garb, they could probably hold their own in a firefight against even the well-equipped Britannian Army.<p>

The Queen's Rangers had been briefed beforehand on the nature of the enemy. These were genetically modified soldiers, many of which held any number of abilities, from telekinesis to UV vision. If any one of them fell, it was likely that one of the others would notice. If any of them sensed an enemy, the others would likely find out.

They all needed to be defeated at once, a feat that would be nearly impossible, even for the Queen's Rangers.

And so they awaited for the promised sign.

* * *

><p>C.C. walked with a brisk stride across the bridge as Soraya struggled to keep up. Over the railings, the vast subterranean complex of the Alamut Thought Elevator. Streetlights illuminated the streets and buildings that jutted out of each nook and cranny.<p>

The Geass Directorate had been around since the birth of man. From the Geass directorate had risen Kings, Philosophers, Warriors and Assassins, all dedicated to protecting Humanity from the shadows. It was a Geassholder of the directorate that had assassinated Chancellor Adolf Hitler on the verge of world war; a geassholder who had delayed the French Fleet during Washington's Rebellion; a geassholder who had rescued the Last Empress of China from Japanese Forces during the first Pacific War.

This was the organization that C.C. led, for better or for worse.

"Whose idea was it to install the purple lighting?"

C.C. paused midstep at the young dark-haired boy who leaned against a streetlight.

"U.U., it was your idea. You said it reminded you of home."

"Ah, did I really?" The little boy laughed. "My memory fails me sometimes."

C.C wasn't about to blame him. U.U. (უ.უ. in his native Georgian), was at least four centuries older than C.C., easily the oldest surviving Immortal in the directorate. For all his youthful appearances, the boy was C.C.'s elder.

Behind U.U., the tall blonde Nordic woman that was U.U.'s Apprentice, Siri, nodded politely as she casually slipped an eyepatch back on top of her purple-hued eye. "Nobody's following you, milady."

"What am I, a light pole?" Soraya grumbled—to herself. As a geassholder whose geass had already become rampant in one eye, Siri was much farther down the path of a Geassholder, and Soraya, whose geass was still dormant, owed her respect.

"Well let's go, Yunyun and the others are waiting." U.U. led the way towards the glowing pillar at the center of the city—one of the eight portals to the gods—Dakhma, the Thought Elevator of Persia.

Stretching from the bottom of the cavern to the very ceiling, the Thought Elevator bathed the whole city with a soft, purple glow.

C.C. felt an involuntary twitch as she watched the massive structure—for all her time in the geass directorate, she could never quite shake off the unease she felt around a thought elevator.

All of the eight Immortals had a connection with the Thought Elevators, though each Immortal was particularly attuned to one. This thought elevator was protected by U.U., who had been chosen by the previous immortal guardian for the role.

Yet if U.U. was perturbed, he gave no sign of it as he and Siri led the way towards the old stone structure that stood among the concrete and steel of the modernized Geass Directorate.

Two guards saluted through keffiyas and what looked like night vision goggles. With so many geassholders within the city, the Directorate's guards wore modified night vision goggles and earphones that were built to filter out Geass transmitted through sight and sound. There had been rebellions in the past.

The lighting inside the Temple of Akasha was provided solely by the purple light of the thought elevator. At this distance, it glowed far brighter than any LED, bathing each carved stone pillar in its ambience.

Silhouetted in the purple light were several figures.

"…Charles' plan will be stopped because of this, won't it?" Sen, the Immortal of the Khagan Thought Elevator, was not known for being indirect. The bearded, mongoloid man looked to be in his mid-40s. Even in a western Business suit, he emitted the air of wild independence from the days that he had rode with the Golden Horde.

"As rushed as always, Sen." An old man laughed cheerfully as he perched on a nearby bench. For all his senile appearances, Mai Mai, the immortal of the African Thought Elevator, was one of the youngest of the eight immortals, having only been inducted Ten years ago. He had yet to even select an apprentice geassholder.

"Those that move with haste move all the slower, Sen." A young Asiatic woman laughed lightly from where she had waited behind a pillar.

Sen didn't seem unperturbed. "…Isn't it a saying in your home country that you ought to 'strike while the iron is hot,' Yunyun?"

Yunyun smiled. "Chinese people have too many proverbs for one person to remember." Around C.C.'s age in appearance, the guardian of the Kaminejima Thought Elevator had only recently obtained her Code from her mentor, Nene. Yunyun's apprentice, Soo Jin, waited silently nearby, her tense expression the opposite of her Master's carefreeness. As Soraya approached, her hand strayed ever so slightly on the archaic sword by her side.

U.U. glanced around. "Is this everyone?"

"V.V. declined the invitation. I couldn't contact R.R., or Sasa," Sen replied. "Then again, Sasa's out of touch half the time, and R.R. rarely leaves his cave anyway." R.R., a Sufi hermit and the guardian of the Atlantean Thought Elevator in Bermuda, had a tendency to seclude himself in the Syrian mountains. C.C. suspected that the hermit had left the Solar-powered phone the Directorate had given him in his cave for too long.

"V.V. wouldn't come anyway," Mai Mai remarked. "That boy may as well be on Charles' side."

Yunyun twisted a lock of her long jet-black hair with a hand daintily. "'That boy' is older than we are, Mai."

"He _is_ on Charles' side," Sen corrected without humor, consigning Yunyun's comment to nothingness. "He is abrogating the duty of us Immortals as the protectors of humanity. By all means, one of our apprentices should replace him and his ridiculous plan."

U.U. shrugged. "The more important question here is what effect the Empress' death has on Charles' plan."

C.C. hid her slight annoyance. As someone who had been living for almost two millennia, U.U. was probably older and wiser than any of the other Immortals. Yet, those two millennia had shrank the value of each human life to his eyes.

When you've lived over a thousand years, the 80 years of a man's life is simply the blink of an eye. Each name was no longer a name, simply a label for 1/7 billionth of humanity's total net worth.

It was ironic, honestly.

In their devotion to their goal of protecting humanity, the Immortals had forgotten the worth of each human.

Only Marianne had managed to remind C.C. of that. Marianne Lamperouge had been the first friend C.C. had made in a long time. When Marianne had told her that they were taking their first steps towards achieving a perfect world, C.C. had believed that.

She had tried her hardest to believe that.

It was with C.C.'s help as the head of the Geass directorate that Marianne and Charles had hunted down the rogue Immortal who had held the Code to the Vinland Thought Elevator and inducted V.V. as the eight Immortal.

It was Marianne who took C.C.'s side when she had her second thoughts about Charles' plan.

And now she was dead.

"Marianne and I were the only ones who still had objections about Ragnarok. If anything, Charles and V.V. are more likely than ever to go ahead with Ragnarok."

Ragnarok. The death of the gods. The compete unification of Alaya, the collective consciousness of the human race, into one being, one place, one moment. The primal recombination of the souls of all humans into Brahma, the soul of the world. Theoretically, an end to all war, all hardship, all hate.

"Tch." Sen spat on the floor. "They won't, as long as we can help it."

C.C. nodded, slowly. Charles and his representative (U.U. preferred to say "hound") V.V. needed the divine construct that the Immortals guarded, the Sword of Akasha, to initiate Ragnarok. And the Sword would require all eight Codes of the Geass, the oaths that bound each of the Immortals to their thought elevators. To do that, he would require the consent of the other seven immortals.

V.V. had presented the idea to the other seven Immortal Lords, all of whom had proceeded to flatly reject it. As long as the other immortals stood firm, the Emperor and V.V. could do nothing.

Yunyun unconsciously twisted her hair into little ropes, a sign of agitation. "V.V….I don't trust him. Somebody whose whole plan has been derailed doesn't ignore the meeting that follows."

Sen nodded. "I've sent my Celio and the Directorate guards to bring him here to explain himself." Celio, Sen's apprentice, was close to reaching permanent Geass—a skilled fighter and a quick thinker, Celio was already regarded by much of the Directorate as an immortal.

"…Then I guess all that remains is to wait."

* * *

><p>The Geassholders and scientists stood aside as Apprentice Celio Bolivar stepped off the monorail. In a cavern with a limited atmospheric system, the emission-free monorail was the only mass transportation available, and the train was often clogged. Today, though, cleared by Directorate Guards, the monorail car held only Celio and four guards.<p>

"No response from the compound," the directorate soldier reported. Unconsciously, Celio felt the mental tug that told him that the soldier was telling the truth.

His Geass of lie detection was always active, seeking out the smallest nugget of untruth.

"We have a warrant from four of the six immortals present. We're authorized to go in anyway."

With a scan of a card, the entrance to the Guardian of the Vinland Thought Elevator's laboratory compound opened up. The lobby was strangely empty.

Celio sighed. "Where is Lord V.V.'s office?"

"Twelfth Floor, sir."

"Well, let's go."

The elevator doors silently opened, and Celio and his four Directorate guards stepped into the elevator, paying no attention to the bland jazz that played over the elevator. As if mocking them, the elevator slowly winked up from the ground floor.

Celio shook his head. Immortals could be quite whimsical—in fact, save for Sen, none of them could truly be considered serious. It wasn't necessary to send he and four guards to summon one of the Lords. In fact, it was a little rude.

With a grudging _Ding,_ the elevator reached the twelfth floor, opening up to reveal a long hallway lit by sterile, fluorescent light.

And, in the middle of the hallway, was Immortal Lord V.V..

And, huge in his childlike hands, was an assault rifle.

"Milor—"

* * *

><p>Trapped in a narrow hallway, the Directorate Guards and the apprentice had nowhere to run as the assault rifle sheared through them. V.V. smiled as he dropped the machine gun. Modern technology made aggressive negotiations a hell of a lot easier.<p>

"We could have done that for you, your Majesty," a soldier in combat armor said. Dressed head to toe in armor and protected from sound and sight-based-Geass through visors and earphones, these soldiers had been armed and raised by V.V. himself. All over the Directorate, more of these soldiers were preparing for action. All they needed was V.V.'s signal.

"Sometimes you have to do things with your own two hands," V.V. said with a smile. A Directorate doctor, dressed in a bulletproof vest, walked up to him. "The subject is ready. He should be able to survive with 15 seconds of Geass operation."

V.V. nodded. "Then we're ready." He turned back towards the boy sitting on the chair. The boy stared docilely at him. "Rollo, are you ready?"

"…yes, milord."

V.V. smiled. Not that he expected Rollo to say no. He nodded to the soldier behind him, who muttered into his intercom.

"Then Rollo, activate when in five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

* * *

><p>In the darkness of the Persian desert, the expanding sphere of purple light suddenly seemed to bloom out of the ground, completely encircling the fortress that was Alamut.<p>

The Queen's Rangers had been waiting for this signal from a distance.

The commanding officer had told the troops that the orb would guarantee them a mere 15 seconds to eliminate the guards on the battlement.

For the Queen's Rangers, 15 seconds was more than enough.

Countless sniper rifles coughed into the night, and the frozen figures of the fort guards crumpled.

"Go! Gogo!"

With a haste that approached panic, Rangers charged onto the battlements, finishing whatever guards remained with silenced pistol shots.

The rangers ran through the fort effortlessly, navigating the corridors as if they had lived there for all their lives.

After all, they had trained for weeks in a replica of the fort.

They knew exactly where to find the cold-war era blast doors, and each had memorized the entrance Code.

For a moment after they stepped into the subterranean city, the Queen's Rangers could only stare. Most of them were grizzled veterans who had assassinated Britannia's enemies all over the world.

None had seen something quite like this subterranean cave.

But their fascination only lasted a moment.

With businesslike efficiency, they began pulling out weapons.

Pistols. Shotguns. Claymore Mines. C4. Grenades of all types. Assault Rifles. SMGs. LMGs. RPGs. SAMs. Missile Launchers, even a few flamethrowers.

They had a job to do.

* * *

><p>The purple wall washed over C.C. like a wave, sending a shiver through her spine. Though Immortals were immune to Geass, they reacted to its effects.<p>

"…A Geass activation," Sen said slowly. C.C. immediately turned at Soraya.

"Soraya?"

There was no response. C.C. put a hand to her apprentice's palm—Soraya remained warm, and there was a pulse—but there was simply no response.

"…an Area of Effect Geass."

U.U. stood up, all humor gone from his face. "Some kind of time-stopping Geass?" Reaching into his pocket, U.U. drew a handgun and disengaged the safety.

"—oring," Soraya finished out of nowhere. She blinked, as if somebody had just doused water on her. "Erm…I think I dozed off," she said apologetically, an apology that wilted away as she saw the expression on each of the immortal's faces.

Yunyun, who seemed unperturbed, turned to her apprentice. "Soo Jin, honey, please identify all Geassholders with a time-based ability with an area of effect."

"Roger." Soo Jin's left eye suddenly clouded, to be replaced by the glowing purple iris of a Geass as she looked through her perfectly archived memory.

"Subject DE32-45A, named Liao Tailiang, the ability to stop the involuntary nervous system of the target for as long as the user's can be stopped. Former Apprentice of Nene. Currently in Chongqing. Subject BD55-29C, named Rollo, the ability to impede the sense of time, though it stops the heart of the user. Apprentice to V.V. Currently in the custody of the Directorat—"

And then a thunderous tore through the silence of the temple. Dust rained down from the old stone structure as C.C. struggled to regain her balance.

"V.V.," Sen muttered.

A distant rattle of gunfire tore through the night, instantly answered by another burst of gunfire, and then a distant explosion.

"Contact the Directorate Guards. Order them out to the streets," U.U. ordered to Siri, who shook her head.

"I'm just getting static. Nobody's responding."

"Signal Jamming," Soo Jin explained. "Common tactic by even conventional military forces these days."

Mai Mai laughed, a hacking, bitter laugh. "Technology advances fast, doesn't it?"

C.C. glanced at U.U.'s face. For all his tranquility, the sweat on his brow showed that he had not expected this. Honestly, she was partly to blame as well. Modern militaries upgraded their equipment every few years. Separated from the flow of time, the Geass Directorate updated about once every half a century. The current Directorate Guards were well-trained, but their equipment hadn't been updated since the 1990's ATB. Against an equivalent military force, they would be hard-pressed.

"V.V.'s after us," C.C. explained as she drew her own sidearm, a Britannian Air Force handgun. "We need to get out. We can retreat to the Khagan Directorate for the time being."

Sen didn't waste anymore words as he stepped forwards. "Let's go."

"… Wait."

Sen turned as Siri walked forwards, her eyepatch removed. "We have company." She drew out her own handgun—just as something the size of a fist bounced off the pillar with a metallic clang, landing at her feet with a hiss.

A smoke grenade.

With a hiss, a burst of grey smoke obscured the hallways as three shots rang out.

Siri calmly reloaded her handgun as she walked over to the two soldiers who now lay on the ground, One of them scrabbled for his sidearm. Without a second glance, Siri shot the man twice in the skull. Leaning over, she picked up the assault rifle on the ground and looked into the sights.

"XM29 OICW, Thermal Scope. They were planning on taking us down in the smoke."

Of course, the two men wouldn't have counted on a Geassholder with the Geass of thermal vision.

C.C. turned the corpse over.

"…This is Charles' doing. These are the Queen's Rangers. A unit of these guys took apart a whole Chinese battalion in Annam."

C.C. didn't tell the other immortals that she had been with them when it had happened.

"Charles has brought out the big guns. Right now, our priority is our protection," C.C. barked as she picked up the deceased Special Forces member's Assault Rifle. "We need to move."

* * *

><p>Rollo slowly opened his eyes. There was a tingling feeling in his chest, and his vision wavered slightly—but it seemed he had survived. One of the black-uniformed men, seeing this, threw away the Defibrillator in his hands.<p>

Next to him, V.V. smiled. "You did well, Rollo. We would have given up if you hadn't woken up then."

V.V. decided that it was best that Rollo didn't know how close he had been to death. Even with epinephrine, steroids and a cocktail of drugs, the maintenance of a Geass field the size of the Geass Directorate for fifteen seconds could well have killed him. As it was, this boy would retain his use.

"…Rollo, are you ready for your next mission?"

Rollo nodded blankly, but obediently. "Of course, milord."

* * *

><p>"—"<p>

With a grunt of pain, U.U. stepped back, dropping his handgun to the ground as he stumbled and fell to the ground.

"U.U.!"

Yunyun ran over with C.C. as Siri threw a scavenged hand grenade in the direction of U.U.'s assailant.

U.U. grinned painfully as he put a hand on his bleeding chest. "A punctured lung…I've had worse," he wheezed.

C.C. curled her lip. It was bad news regardless. Each of the immortals were, as their names implied, immortal. With enough time, they could survive any kind of damage. Yet, that time was hardly short. It would take almost half a day for an immortal to recover a fatal wound—a mortal wound such as U.U.'s would take half an hour.

When C.C. had been with the Queen's Rangers, she had witness them clearing a Sons of Liberty Terrorist Base in the Rockies in twenty minutes.

If she hung back, it was possible they wouldn't make it.

"…Go," U.U. rasped. "He'll need all of us to win, and Siri will protect me."

Siri bowed slightly, a task that he somehow squeezed within bursts from his LMG.

"I'll keep Lord U.U. safe until he has recovered."

C.C. stared into U.U.'s eyes. The little boy's eyes, filled with centuries of experience, said two things.

The first that he was likely lying, and he and Siri would not make it out.

The second was determination. A determination that C.C. had forgotten she had not seen since the pacific war—the eyes of someone who was already prepared to fight to the end.

U.U. was her senior, and he had mentored her as the leader of the Geass Directorate. He had been around as long as she could remember, even as immortals died and were replaced.

He wasn't a father figure, but he was definitely close.

"Priorities, C.C.," U.U. said simply, and C.C. straightened up.

"Catch up with us at Khagan."

U.U. smiled as he picked up his gun again. "Of course."

The other Immortals stared—and then nodded.

"Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Siri, put me against that pole," U.U. rasped. Dutifully, Siri propped the child against a pole.<p>

"How long do you think we can give them?"

"Oh, a good hour."

"…Sounds good to me." With a loud snap, U.U. slid a new magazine into his pistol.

* * *

><p>"Breaching in three! Two! One! Gogogo!"<p>

With practiced precision, Sgt. Gregory Pierce, Codenamed Yeti, charged through the burst of chaff and dust. As if in slow motion, he carefully squeezed off a burst at each of the shocked guards inside the residential building. For all of their archaic-looking uniforms and steampunk goggles, these terrorists were well-trained and well-armed.

They just weren't a match for the Queen's Rangers.

One of the turbaned terrorists, seemingly unharmed by the bullet in his shoulder, charged forwards, swinging his rifle like a bludgeon. Sidestepping the man, Pierce drew the combat knife on his arm. With trained precision, he drove the blade into the man's neck. The keffiya provided scarce protection as the knife buried itself into the man's neck. With a practiced twist, Pierce drove the knife up diagonally to ensure the serration of the carotid artery.

The corpse fell to the ground, a few last gasps of air slipping out of his throat like a punctured balloon.

That was all that Sergeant Pierce had done.

Dispose of a corpse.

When you were a soldier, you couldn't think of your enemies as humans. They were just bags of moving meat that had to be stopped.

There was no patriotism, no nationalism, none of the superficial emotions that those who had never truly fought imbibed into their war stories.

There was simply you and the enemy, as the first two enemies had done untold millennia ago.

It was kill, or be killed.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Room Clear!"

"Nice Finisher there, Yeti."

Pierce hid his annoyance. The names given to each soldier were supposed to be random. But for the last few battles, Pierce had noticed a certain theme in his names. Gorilla, Shaggy, Yeti…

He did consider himself a little hairy, but…

As the dust cleared, Pierce looked around the room. Huddled in the corner were a group of children—and Pierce suddenly blinked.

These were noncombatants. Civilians.

His soldier's mindset was instantly shattered.

He remembered his children, waiting at his hag of an ex-wife's home in Trenton.

He walked towards the children, sheating his bloody knife and opening his palms to show that he meant no harm.

The children shrank away from him, staring with crazed fear.

And Pierce remembered his mask.

The thing, with built-in gas filters and viewscreens, looked like the face of something that lived in pools of crude oil and strangled puppies.

Pierce disengaged the mask as he walked forwards, trying his best to smile.

"…Are you alright?"

The children stared at him—and then Pierce noticed something strange. Each of the children seemed to have heterochromia—and at least one of each of their eyes seemed to glow with a strange, purple color—

* * *

><p>One of the children fell down, limp, and Yeti straightened up. His squadmates turned.<p>

Dallas, one of his squadmates, walked forwards. "Yeti, you look kinda stoned—"

Yeti turned slowly, his assault rifle aimed from the hip.

Dallas blinked. "Y-Yeti, what are you—"

With a roar of gunfire, Dallas collapsed. The other squadmates stared.

"…You fuck!" With practiced precision, the assault rifles turned their muzzles towards their former comrade and opened fire.

The limp body of Sgt. Gregory Pierce fell to the ground.

The other members of Yeti's squad stopped at they glanced at the bodies of their squadmates.

"What the hell…"

"Did we…"

And then, abruptly, one of the squadmates pointed his rifle at the children and pulled the trigger.

Unarmed, unarmored and skinny, the children crumpled soundlessly.

"It was these little shits. They made Yeti go crazy."

The other squadmates stared—and then nodded. "we better tell the others. We've got a bunch of X-Men or some shit down here."

"More like Magneto."

"Roger that."

* * *

><p>With a bang, the building door fell open.<p>

A group of V.V.'s personal Directorate Soldiers cautiously stepped into the building their rifles ready.

The room was dark, and they cautiously switched on their night vision goggles as they rolled in.

The interior seemed empty. An apartment complex, the building had long since been vacated, and the remnants of a half-finished meal lay on the table.

Suddenly, they heard a sound. Spinning around, the soldiers aimed their rifles at a boy—who grinned wickedly through closed eyes as he flipped on the lights. Instantly, the night vision goggles were bathed in white light as the fluorescent lights flooded into the hypersensitive goggles, effectively blinding them.

U.U. smiled as he opened his eyes. With a steady hand, he shot each of the guards with his handgun.

"Not as smart as those Britannian ones," Siri said as she stood up from behind the sofa. "They would have breached and cleared."

U.U. grinned painfully. "All the better. This plan is actually going quite well."

With Siri's support, the two limped out of the building, back onto a deserted street. The sounds of battle were now everywhere.

U.U. smiled. It reminded him of a time, a long time ago, when fewer souls walked the earth.

Suddenly, he stopped as he felt a prickling on his arm. The Code on his forehead was reacting to another Code.

"Siri, stop."

Siri looked surprised, but obeyed as U.U. managed to get to his feet. His Lungs were still damaged, but repair was underway. He would still be able to fight.

"V.V., you can stop skulking around and come out now."

U.U. did his best to keep his smile tranquil as the blonde boy walked forwards, escorted by a man in Queen's Ranger uniform.

"You look happy to see me," V.V. grinned a childish smile as he walked forwards.

In a way, it was kind of ridiculous.

Two children, smiling at each other with the hatred of two adults, guarded by their two charges.

U.U. was confident. Siri had outfought the other Special Forces officers before—and onces he had laid down a smoke grenade, her Thermal Vision would give her a definite advantage against that soldier.

"…What are you planning to do, V.V.?"

V.V. responded to U.U.'s challenge with a cryptic smile. "…you shall see…or rather, you won't."

U.U. grinned. "None of us will willingly open the Sword of Akasha for you—you gain nothing from taking one of the thought elevators, even if this one happens to be mine."

V.V. shrugged. "Well, there's no point in telling you."

"So you have no intention of surrendering?"

"…as if you are in any position to say that."

U.U. closed his eyes. "Well then, it can't be helped. Siri?"

Siri drew her combat knife as he stepped forwards, throwing her pistol to the ground in a contemptuous salute.

For a moment, the two guardians stared at each other—the Queen's Ranger expressionless behind his helmet, Siri so emotionless that she may as well have been wearing a mask.

And then the Ranger dropped his assault rifle.

Instead, he drew an elaborate knife from his vest—not like the modern combat knife in Siri's hand, but a long knife—a Dirk with an elaborate handle and hilt.

Siri turned towards U.U. with a grin. "… Is it alright if I kill him?"

"Go right ahead."

* * *

><p>For what felt like an eternity, the four figures stared at each other. The sounds of conflict faded into silence as the tension tightened, like a rubber band stretching to its breaking point.<p>

And then it snapped. With a flick, Siri hurled a smoke grenade into the air, filling the space between them with smoke.

It was dishonorable, certainly—but Siri would do what it needed to win.

She could clearly see two shapes on the other side—the shape of the child and the soldier, still in a combat stance.

With the grace of a distance runner, Siri charged forwards, her knife clenched tightly in her palm. The soldier, aware of the danger, drew back, out of the smoke.

It was a wise move, but Siri still held the element of surprise.

The soldier put his left hand to his helmet as he held his knife ready with the right hand.

Knife fights are not like swordfights.

There are no fancy parries, no ripostes and backs and forths.

The one who strikes flesh would win.

And Siri knew she would strike first.

She shot out of the smoke, knife at the ready—and noticed two things.

The first was that the soldier had removed his helmet, revealing not a man, but the long hair of a woman underneath the helmet.

The second was the Geass in each of the soldier's eyes.

And then she felt her body freeze.

It wasn't that she had lost them or she felt pain. It was simply nothingness—an electric buzzing on her torso where an arm, a leg, a neck had once been attached.

The only thing left was numbness.

Somewhere, Siri realized that this was probably Geass that shuts down the peripheral nervous system's messages to the pain.

A Geass that could disable even the hardiest warriors.

A Geass that was simply a Geass of unfeeling.

Siri could only watch as the other woman closed in—

* * *

><p>U.U.'s handgun clattered to the floor. Siri, the apprentice who had never once failed him, flopped like a sack of fruit as V.V.'s guardian yanked the dirk out of her bloodied back.<p>

"…W-watch…out…" Siri rasped as she fell to the ground.

"She's…she's got a full Geass—"

With a single movement, the woman drew her sidearm and shot Siri in the head.

Instantly, Siri stopped moving.

U.U. could only stare as the woman charged forwards.

He didn't even respond as the hot poker stab through his chest.

He lay limp even as he felt the Code on his arm fade away, absorbed into the arm of that woman.

Everything suddenly felt so cold, every breath felt like a battle no longer worth fighting.

He was dying.

He would disappear from this world forever.

After 1400 years of life, he would finally vanish away.

A few years ago, he had tried to return to his home with Siri.

He had gone back to his old hometown in Phasis, Georgia, the town where he had been raised.

All he found was the lake. His hometown had sunk under Lake Paliastomi. Everyone he knew, his parents, his friends, had all disappeared, without a trace.

All their worries, all their hatred, all their quarrels, all their joy, all of it had simply been blown away, like chaff.

And somehow, U.U. … no, Ushisha Tsiravili, did not feel fear.

An eternity of nothingness, an eternal rest…

_Isn't it a relief?_

* * *

><p>The young woman watched the little boy's life fade away.<p>

Once he had lost the Code, the person once known as an immortal lord was simply a child once again.

She wished she could numb that child's pain, as she had numbed the pain of so many lives she had extinguished.

But she would never use that Geass again.

She looked at the spread-winged symbol of her arm blankly.

The Code of the Geass.

"Congratulations, Nalika. You are now an immortal."

Nalika nodded quietly to V.V.'s praise.

"Now your job here is complete. Get rid of any witnesses."

"…Yes, Your Highness."

* * *

><p>"All citizens, please remain calm and prepare for evacuation."<p>

The announcement couldn't have been any less unnecessary. Raised to be obedient, the Directorate's scientists, Geassholders and civilians stood in tense but orderly lines at the monorail station, protected by Directorate Guard.

With an ingrained discipline, they slowly stepped onboard the monorail line that would take them down one of the many escape tunnels of the directorate.

The unit of directorate guards beckoned some latecomers to hurry up. The train needed to go.

A small boy walked forwards, no different from one of the many young Geassholders.

The guards walked forwards—he was dressed in a Geassholder's uniform, a loose utilitarian tunic.

"Come on, we're about to launch! Hurry it up!"

The boy walked forwards—and then a sphere of reddish-purple light shot through them, filling the monorail.

With a tug, the boy yanked the pin of a hand grenade and threw it amid the frozen faces.

The Directorate Guards blinked. The kid was walking away.

"Kid, what are you—"

And then the hand grenade exploded.

Rollo walked on, towards the next monorail station.

* * *

><p>"Red Eagle, this is Overlord. There's an enemy pocket of resistance about 300 meters to your north. Remove them."<p>

"Roger."

Lieutenant General Bartley Asprius mopped his brow as he stuffed another fry into his mouth. The thirty-year old Britannian Army Officer ate to relieve stress—and after his time in Indochina, the slightly short but well-built man had put on quite a bit of weight to compensate for the loss of his hairline.

The command of the full force of such an elite branch of the Britannian force was an honor rarely given to a Lieutenant General. He knew his career relied on this, and the stress made his voice quiver slightly as he observed the battle.

And what a battle.

From the Britannian Armored Trailer inside Alamut, he observed a battle he had never seen before.

A battle underground. A battle fought only by infantry. The structure of this vast facility had never been intended for motor vehicles, and so the Queen's Rangers were being forced to fight without the advantage of Britannia's M-33's and artillery.

Not that they were doing badly.

Assisted by local troops, the Queen's Rangers were cutting deep gashes into the sides of the local terrorists, clearing the subterranean complex block by block.

_Still, what kind of advanced terrorist cell could possibly develop a complex city like this?_

* * *

><p>The Monorail control station was deserted when C.C. and the others arrived.<p>

Through this station, the Directorate could direct the monorails anywhere—from anywhere inside the directorate to the many escape points.

The many empty monorail bays told C.C. that the station's guards and operators had long since fled.

"I suppose we'll have to do it ourselves," Mai Mai chuckled.

The monorail control system was state-of-the-art. Only installed a year ago, the electric system used a system of complex routing computers to activate and deactivate routes, to routing and rerouting trains.

As such, C.C. had no idea how to use it.

Soraya sighed. "Sorry, I don't know much about computers."

"Of all the jobs I once took," Mai Mai remarked with a laugh, "the one job I never took was as a PC support worker."

Sen said nothing, but the fact that he didn't snap at Mai Mai implied that the former Mangudai also had no clue how to run the system.

Yunyun sighed as she turned to Soo Jin.

"Soo, any chance you have files on computer support?"

Soo paused for a moment as she activated her Geass. A moment later, she nodded. "I have a copy of the old manual for this train. With this, I can probably activate the monorail and send all of you to any of the escape points."

C.C. nodded. "Get to it."

Sen, though, frowned at Soo Jin and said what everybody else was thinking.

"…Are you prepared for this?"

The monorail could not be activated from the monorail trains themselves, to prevent hijacking. The only control present was the emergency break.

If somebody activated a manual shutdown on the monorail computer, all the monorails could theoretically be stopped.

Meaning that somebody would have to stay behind to keep the monorail running and protect it from V.V..

Yunyun blinked. "No," she interjected bluntly, "You're coming with us, Soo."

Soo Jin nodded, expressionless. "It is my duty to guarantee your safety."

Even Mai Mai stopped smiling. "Lee Soo Jin. You have a life ahead of you. I'm an old man, near the end of my days. If you tell me how, I can run the monorail system.

Soo Jin shook her head. "There can be a thousand apprentices, but there are only eight Immortals. Your safety is prioritized over mine."

Yunyun stamped her feet petulantly. The former Chinese Noble could be childish at times, and this was one of those times. "That's an order, Soo!"

Yet Soo Jin remained steadfast.

C.C. said nothing. Soo Jin was clearly speaking the truth—having been Yunyun's bodyguard before she became an immortal, Soo Jin was known to obey no order but Yunyun's. If she would not even follow Yunyun's orders, she was likely already set in her decision.

"Yunyun. Soo Jin is doing this for you," C.C. said slowly as Yunyun looked to her for support. Yunyun glared at C.C., as if C.C. had just stabbed her in the back. She looked to Sen, who simply closed his eyes. "A Man has to do what a Man Has to do."

"Soo Jin is a Woman, Sen!"

Sen shuffled uncomfortably. "You know what I mean."

C.C. sighed. "Yunyun, you've only just become an immortal. Over your life, you'll see many people you know die. Of old age. Of disease. Of murder. But you must remember of your duty. To protect seven billion people. You have to let them go."

Even in her mind, it sounded like bullshit.

"As if you let go of Marianne's Death!"

C.C. froze.

The other immortals, too, fell silent. Even Yunyun stopped, aware that she had struck a blow too low.

"Soo Jin is staying behind, and we are going on that monorail," C.C. finally managed.

* * *

><p>Nobody said anything until Soo Jin announced the activation of the monorail.<p>

Soundlessly, Mai Mai and Sen stepped into the monorail. C.C. turned as she boarded the monorail.

Yunyun stood at the edge of the platform, looking back and forth from where C.C. stood to where Soo Jin waited.

Finally, she turned to C.C., expressionless.

"C.C., I'm staying."

"…No, you're not."

"Soo Jin won't be able to hold them off for long. I'm Immortal."

"Hence why you should be on board."

C.C. looked Yunyun in the eyes. There was no childish twinkle in her eyes—simply eyes that stared back, unashamed. For perhaps a second, or a minute, or an hour, they stared at each other—and finally, C.C. looked away.

"Do as you will."

Yunyun broke into a rash grin as she rolled her robe sleeves back, clenching her fists. "Awesome. I'll kick V.V.'s ass for you."

C.C. said nothing as the Monorail door closed in front of her.

The other Immortals said nothing as they watched C.C. sit down.

They all sat silently as the monorail hissed through the darkness.

* * *

><p>Yunyun turned around to Soo Jin.<p>

"C'mon, Soo. Let's kick their asses."

Soo Jin said nothing.

"Why?"

Yunyun stared off into the receding lights of the monorail. "Remember back when we first met?"

Soo Jin nodded. Back in the day on that yacht when Yunyun was still Lady Sun Lei Yun.

"Remember what you promised me?"

On that day, Yunyun had fallen off the yacht, and Soo Jin had rescued her from drowning.

"Yes. I promised never to leave your side."

Yunyun grinned.

"I wanted to make sure you kept that promise."

"…Milady."

"Yes?"

"You are an idiot."

Yunyun laughed with embarrassment as she scratched her head.

"Heh…maybe you're right."

And, as Yunyun laughed, the faintest trace of a smile tugged at Soo Jin's lips.

* * *

><p>"Ey, Lantern."<p>

The Queen's Ranger glanced at his comrade as they moved cautiously through the directorate complex.

"Eh?" Lantern did not enjoy striking up conversations midbattle.

"Don't you think there's something wrong with these masks?"

"Yeah, they're stuffy as fuck."

"No…it's more like they make us so…anonymous."

"You shouldn't be looking for fame if you join the Rangers, Nimbus."

Nimbus shrugged.

"No, I feel it makes us kind of disposable. Like some kind of disposable gook, you know what I mean?"

"We're highly skilled disposable gooks."

"Yeah, but since when do elite guards work against Superman? And with these masks, we don't even have the distinction of a face. It's like we're disposable plot characters to make the main characters look good."

"Like the Immortals."

"The Immortals?" Nimbus blinked inside his helmet, not that anyone outside would have noticed.

"The Persians deployed them as Cavalry. The idea was that no matter how many died, the King would replace the exact amount, regardless of cost, with exactly the same equipment."

"Gotta suck to be one of those Immortals."

"I read ya."

The facility they had entered seemed to be the control center of this massive terrorist complex's monorail system. It would be the job of Lantern, Nimbus and their cohorts to secure the monorail system and cut off all escape routes.

The atrium's lights were on, and the Rangers fanned out. Nimbus immediately made a quick estimate of the hall. On the other side, a group of steps led up into the second floor, where the atrium control booths were. The area seemed to be deserted, though it didn't bear any signs of combat.

Nimbus sighed with relief.

"Room seems clear…"

It was the wrong thing to say. A moment later, a single shape dropped right next to Nimbus. Before he or the other Rangers could react, a flash of silver separated his head from his shoulders.

The other Rangers instinctively raised their guns—and hesitated. Nimbus' assailant, some woman with an archaic-looking sword, was effectively standing in the middle of the rangers. If anyone missed in this environment, there would be a risk of friendly fire.

And Friendly Fire …

Isn't.

That moment of hesitation was a mistake. With the agility and efficiency borne of years of training, Soo Jin's _Jian_ cleaved through the gaps between armor plates as she leapt deftly between the confused Rangers. Some of the smarter ones abandoned their guns, drawing their combat knives and ballistic knives in preparation for close quarters combat.

Yet, unlike the Rangers, who were trained to use knives as a last resort in the world of firearms, Soo Jin's sword was her primary weapon.

If Soo Jin were to match them in firearms or barehanded combat, she would probably be the loser.

But if it came to bladed weapons, she was definitely superior.

With a gurgle, the last Ranger fell to the ground, clutching his throat as Soo Jin straightened up.

Gingerly, she wiped her sword on the body of that last Ranger. Unlike the civilized, censored deaths that came from firearms, death by a bladed weapon was far more primal—dismembered limbs oozed blood, and Soo Jin was aware of the blood that was on her face.

The bodies of eight Rangers lay around her in various pieces.

"Well done, Soo Jin," a voice called cheerfully from the entrance.

Soo Jin, who had been about to sheath her sword, immediately drew it again warily.

"Lord V.V.," she said, like a curse.

"Your skills are quite…exceptional," V.V. remarked, clapping his hands like a child who had just watched a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat. "Have you considered employing those skills as an immortal?"

Soo Jin said nothing. Behind V.V. stood a man in a red suit.

_No,_ Soo Jin realized, the suit was not red—the suit was initially black.

It was simply that the suit had been completely stained with blood.

The man's mouth showed a quaint smile, his eyes concealed by a pair of sunglasses. And, in his hands was what looked like—and, indeed was, a chainsaw that dripped what was clearly blood.

Somehow, Soo Jin knew that this man would not allow her to kill the Immortal Lord.

"Well, Soo Jin? I could allow you to keep your old Lord's Code."

"…Please stop trying to seduce my Apprentice, V.V."

Soo Jin and V.V. both turned in surprise.

_Didn't she agree to allow me to do the fighting?_

Yunyun, Immortal of the Kaminejima Thought Elevator, leapt down from the second floor, landing gracefully next to Soo Jin with a dangerous-looking smile.

"I'm sorry, I was just suggesting some better business opportunities," V.V. replied pleasantly, "but it seems like we have more guests."

Yunyun shrugged. "Aren't you the one intruding?"

"Perhaps. But I'm curious, Sun Lei Yun…did you stay behind for your apprentice? Why did you not flee like the rest of them?"

Yunyun smiled a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I stayed for you."

V.V. laughed pleasantly. "Well, I'm a little flattered…but what would you want from me? I hardly think you're here to join me in my plan."

Yunyun's smile didn't alter for a moment. "That's right." Widening her stance, she raised her open palms in front of her. "Whatever your plan is, I'm going to end it right now!"

V.V.'s eyes narrowed. "Chinese Martial Arts, huh? How…quaint." He turned to the man behind him as he pulled out a light machine gun. "Uryu, take care of the apprentice. Don't worry about me."

"With pleasure," the red-suited man replied as, with a roar, the chainsaw revved itself into life as, with the same tranquil smile, he leapt at Soo Jin.

* * *

><p>V.V. raised the assault rifle to his shoulder as he aimed at Yunyun.<p>

The only problem was that she was no longer there. Backing away, he lowered the rifle as he looked up—just in time to see a heel descending towards him.

"Wha—"

He turned to the side—just in time. With a rush of air, the heel buried itself where his head would have been a moment ago. The impact of the kick was enough to knock V.V. off balance. Unfazed, Yunyun circled around V.V.

"Not bad for a kid," Yunyun grinned brashly. There were no more pleasantries in that smile anymore—simply sheer murderous intent.

V.V. shrugged, ignoring the frantic beat of his heart. "Don't say that about your elders. I'm about thirty years older than you, y'know."

"Heh, grow some facial hair before you lecture me about elders!" Seemingly without a windup, Yunyun lashed out with her left leg with a horizontal kick. Instinctively, V.V. raised the assault rifle—and was swept off his feet anyway by the force of the kick. The little boy flew a few feet before crashing against a pillar. The assault rifle, bent nearly ninety degrees, clattered uselessly by his side.

Yunyun twisted a braid of her hair contemptuously. "Fifty years, and you didn't even take a self-defense class?"

V.V. smiled. "My country isn't so plebian that I need to physically defend myself on a daily basis."

"Well aren't you a pampered little princeling."

"You're one to talk."

Yunyun sighed with the patience of a doting parent as she patted dust off her robe. "You don't get it, do you? Your mouth isn't going to do any good here. I'm done playing around. I'm going to end your plan right here and right now!"

And then she was right in front of him.

V.V. didn't even see her move.

_She was just playing before—?_

Even earlier, he had been defeated in two strikes. Now—

And then he felt a sledgehammer slam into his right shoulder. With a snap, he felt his rotator cuff tear—

—Before he could even move his left arm, another sledgehammer slammed into his arm. With a crack, and a gasp of pain the bone shattered, the bottom half of his humerus stabbing through the skin.

Like a machine, Yunyun methodically struck at his legs, sweeping them from under him and then shattering his hip bone with a crack like a gunshot.

Before he could take in a breath to scream, another hammer blow slammed into his chest, a jackhammer that drove the breath out of his body and impacted into his spleen, rupturing it instantly as he was thrown back against the pillar.

All martial arts are, at their roots a means for self-defense. Half of a martial art is the mindset, the discipline of controlling oneself. Someone who has been trained in martial arts has the discipline to never strike out with lethal force against an enemy.

But this was something else.

This was no longer the art of self-defense, but the art of killing.

Attacks intended not to defend oneself, but to kill, to maim, to injure.

This was martial arts in its most primal stage—one man making sure that another man will never, can never harm him, ever again.

Before V.V. could take another breath, a foot slammed into his windpipe, crushing the tube of cartilage with the ease of a car crumpling a garbage can.

* * *

><p>Yunyun slipped out of her stance as she shook her numbed fists.<p>

"Maybe I overdid it a little."

Each of those strikes had shattered bones—each and every one could have disabled a trained soldier, nevermind a little boy.

V.V.'s Code would allow him to recover—but at this rate, it would take him at least half an hour before he would be able to move again.

With a contemptuous fist, she picked V.V. up by the throat. The kid was really light. His limbs flopped uselessly, disconnected by the force of her blows.

"Any last words you want to tell me before I break the rest of your bones?" It was honestly a rhetorical question—with his windpipe shattered and his lungs ruptured, V.V. wasn't capable of talking.

And so she could not have been more surprised when V.V. rasped, "Surprise."

And then she realized that there was no weight on the holster on her leg.

She felt something metallic jab against her chest—

And then, dropping V.V., she staggered back as, with a muffled bang, her own handgun fired once, twice, three times into her chest.

"Why—"

It should have taken a full half an hour for an immortal to recover from a mortal wound, at least ten minutes before V.V. could have had the ability to talk.

So why was he staggering up, wounded but clearly fit enough to stand?

And then, with a muffled mental impact, she saw the Code on V.V.'s palm.

The Codes of the Geass usually glowed a soft pink when it was trying to restore an Immortal's body. Strong ones, such as C.C's, glowed a little stronger.

V.V.'s was a dark, burning red.

And then, she suddenly realized what had happened to R.R. and Sasa.

"You—you took their Codes?"

V.V. smiled. "Bingo. I don't need all of you to open the Sword of Akasha … all I need are your Codes."

It made perfect sense, honestly. If a Geass Code as compatible with a host, it was likely that it would be likely that any other Code would be compatible with the host. After all, Yunyun had gotten her Geass from Sen, and her Code from her predecessor, Nene.

And it seemed the combined Codes enhanced V.V.'s Healing abilities as well.

She managed a painful smile as she stumbled backwards.

"Cute, cute … but can you find all of us? C.C. and the others are long gone by now."

V.V. laughed. "Well, keep thinking that … C.C. and the others aren't getting away. And look, neither is your apprentice."

* * *

><p>Lee Soo Jin neatly side-stepped another strike from the man with the chainsaw as she continued closing in.<p>

While her sword was well-made with the best modern materials, there was no way it would be able to block a chainsaw.

As such, she would have to make use of the unwieldy nature of the chainsaw to her advantage.

A weapon with such an irregular center of gravity would be powerful in swings and slashes, but it would have no merit as a stabbing weapon. As such, the stab, the most potent attack in sword-to-sword combat, was completely negated, and the man's long swings telegraphed his strikes.

But the man was hardly normal either. Despite all his misses, he maintained his happy smile, swinging the chainsaw with one hand.

Not that the misses weren't close—for all his leanness, the man clearly had great strength, using the chainsaw to readily block Soo Jin's feints with the lighter _Jian_.

Yet Soo Jin made up for her lack of physical strength with skill, honed over years and years of endless practice.

With each dodge, she inched closer and closer to the man, negating the range of his chainsaw and making it difficult for him to fight.

Closing in, she waited for that fatal opening that would end the fight—

—and then the opening showed itself. Swinging too hard, the man's chainsaw barely missed her head as the man struggled to bring it back under control—and then she heard a bang.

She turned—and saw Yunyun stagger, holding her chest.

"Milady—"

She caught the premonition just in time. Out of reflex, she raised her Jian—just as the chainsaw slammed onto it. The impact tore at her arm—just as she locked eyes with the man.

His smile was no longer angelic—instead, his mouth had been contorted into some imitation of a grin.

And his sunglasses were gone.

In his eyes were two Geass.

And then Soo Jin felt every single muscle in her body explode.

Geass are based within the mind and consciousness.

They cannot affect physical phenomena.

It is a physical impossibility that her limbs had exploded.

And yet Soo Jin could not deny the feeling—the pain that shot through every nerve imaginable told her that it was true.

Lee Soo Jin had been trained from childhood to resist torture; to fight everything from a random bandit to a special forces officer; to resist truth serums; to close her mind to interrogations and mind readings.

But to this Geass, she was helpless.

This Geass was surely one of absolute pain.

She screamed, shrieked as each of her million nerve cells exploded into flames.

The pain was so great that even her screams died away into a painful wheeze

The pain was so great, she barely felt anything when the chainsaw sheared through the Jian, and right through her arm.

Most researchers in the directorate believe that each Geass is a materialization of a wish.

A Geass that causes absolute pain—_what twisted person would have made a wish like that?_

Yet the man was not done. With a laugh, he swung the chainsaw across her legs, cutting those off too.

She felt herself fall to the ground—just as the chainsaw slashed through her eyes

It must have been a deliberately and carefully shallow cut, for anything deeper would have cut through her skull and put her out of her misery. As it was, she could merely writhe in the complete darkness.

She scrabbled on the ground with her remaining hand.

She had to protect the girl she had sworn to never leave—the girl she had sworn to always protect.

She felt her hand touch another hand. After so many years with her, it was impossible for her not to recognize it as the warm, beating hand of her charge, Lady Sun Lei Yun.

The last thing she heard was the sound of her Lady calling her.

The last thought she had before the darkness claimed her was relief that Lady Yunyun was safe.

* * *

><p>Yunyun stared blankly at the cold hand in her hands, carelessly separated by a slash of the chainsaw.<p>

Soo Jin's body twitched like a puppet that had lost its strings before finally laying still.

"…That was a little overdone, Uryu" V.V. managed. Even the immortal could only stare with shock at the remnants of a woman he had known for several years.

Looking up, Uryu smiled another angelic smile. "My bad, Milord. I'll finish the job now."

Yunyun barely heard the words as she stared at Soo Jin's body, mangled and cold.

"Soo Jin…get up."

The body made no response.

"…Can't you hear me? "

The body lay still, doing the only thing it could.

"I-I'm ordering you…"

"She can't hear you anymore," a pleasant voice said above her. She looked up at the red-suited man who smiled gently down at her.

"Don't worry. You'll see her again soon."

And then the chainsaw sheared through her neck.

In 1789, Dr. Joseph-Igance Guillotin proposed decapitation by beheading as the most humane and least painful methods of execution. Not long after, Surgeon Antoine Louis invented the eponymous device that bears Guillotin's name.

However, scientist today agree that a person's head will remain fully conscious for about 40 seconds, even after the head is removed from the body.

During this whole time, the brain is hyperconscious, deprived of the hormones that numb the pain of the loss of a limb—those are still in the body.

The average person only needed to suffer 40 seconds of this.

As an Immortal, Yunyun couldn't even take comfort in that.

"A…ahhh…"

Without even a diaphragm to blow air through her vocal cords, Yunyun could only manage a wheeze with what air remained.

"H…help me, Soo…"

Leaning down, Uryu picked the decapitated head up by the hair.

"Awww…she's kind of cute too."

Yunyun's head could only stare back, her mouth screaming a scream that could no longer be heard.

Uryu sighed and turned back to V.V., who was looking away.

"Milord!"

"Y-yes?"

"I kind of like my Geass, you know…it'd be a shame to give it away, and I don't really want to kill her either. Can I keep her like this?"

V.V. closed his eyes. "Just take the Code."

Uryu sighed with a look of slight disappointment. "Fine, fine…"

The look that Yunyun gave her killer as he absorbed the Code on her forehead was almost one of gratitude as the light vanished from her eyes.

* * *

><p>From the control booth, a Queen's Ranger glanced at V.V..<p>

"Milord, it seems like the terrorists managed to luck down the computers. We can no longer stop the monorail system."

V.V. smiled. "That's fine…there'll be a surprise waiting for them on the other end."

* * *

><p>The escape monorail tunnel ended in an old bunker. A few stacked boxes of cup noodles lay around, untouched, along with a few emergency supplies. C.C. looked at the survivors who left the monorail—Sen, Mai Mai, and Soraya.<p>

All that was left of the Geass Directorate.

Sen seemed to understand. "We've had worse before."

Mai Mai nodded. "People die, directorates rise and fall—but we Immortals will live on—must live on. We can rebuild in Khagan."

"We can still do it," Soraya added helpfully.

And they were right. V.V. and Charles had to be stopped.

"Fair enough. Let's move."

* * *

><p>The bunker door to the outside was propped open, and sand was blowing in from the outside.<p>

"Looks like we're not the first ones to escape," Sen noted.

Mai Mai laughed dryly. "The monorail operators fled, after all."

Night had long since given way to day outside. Walking up to the bunker door, Sen grabbed it and pushed it wide, and sunlight flooded in. For a moment, all of them winced, blinded by the morning sun—and then, as their eyes acclimated, they gaped.

The ground outside was filled with bodies—some directorate apprentices; scientists; a few Directorate Guards—and, most ominously, the monorail operators. A few vehicles, presumably intended for the escape, lay smoldering around them.

"What—"

And then C.C. yanked Soraya out of the way as something whizzed past, striking the bunker door with a loud clang.

Cursing, Sen raised his rifle and fired a few shots. "Snipers! Get back in!"

But it was more than just snipers. A moment later, something shot through the air with a whine, colliding with the bunker interior. A millisecond later, the bunker exploded into flames as a Britannian Helicopter pointed its nose at the immortals.

"Get Down!" With a quick yank, Sen pushed Mai Mai behind one of the destroyed vehicles, an old Jeep as C.C. and Soraya did the same behind an old truck. Machine gun bullets whined past them or struck the vehicles with metallic clangs.

"Fuck," Sen muttered.

"The kid got us," Mai Mai noted cheerfully.

It was clear that V.V.'s plan had been well planned out. To have left military units at the ends of all the escape tunnels would be a costly procedure. The Immortals only had light weapons and almost no ammunition.

If there was a bright side, it was that these troops were not Queens' Rangers, but regular Britannian Army forces.

But with tanks and a helicopter, the Army would be more than enough for four people with light weapons.

C.C. glanced around—a tank shell exploded near the downed jeep, showering Sen and Mai Mai with earth. She glanced at Sen and Mai Mai. "Alright, I'm going to make a distraction while you two run for it!"

Sen looked at her levelly. "There's no way you'll recover before those guys take you down. You're going to be captured. Are you prepared for that?"

C.C. nodded. "Better two Immortals stay free then all three of us get captured. Plus I know Charles. I might be able to work something out."

The chances of escaping still weren't very high. But it was better than nothing.

"Milords."

C.C., Sen and Mai Mai turned, in spite of the bullets whizzing around them at Soraya.

"I might have a way for us to get away."

C.C. instantly knew.

"…You're going to use your Geass?"

Soraya smiled a strained smile. "It's about time I did."

"You're going to die."

"I know."

C.C. felt herself hesitate once more. Despite the fact that they had only met a month ago, Soraya was still C.C.'s apprentice.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Soraya said slowly, "I'm about to die anyway."

And it was then that she removed her hand from her stomach, revealing the bloody stain on her directorate uniform.

It was not a fatal wound, but it was a mortal one.

"I'm not going to be able to follow you guys the whole time anyway," Soraya continued.

Mai Mai frowned. "…we could slow down for you."

"…It's better than dying in that c-cave." Soraya's face was looking decidedly white.

"Please, C2…I don't have a lot of time."

And, finally, C.C. nodded.

_Once more, I'm condemning another friend to her death_.

She felt like she should have said something else—some kind of last blessing, or some kind of apology—but nothing came out.

* * *

><p>With an effort, Soyara propped herself up as she prepared to activate her Geass. She felt the wind rush past her as bullet after bullet whizzed by.<p>

She closed her eyes.

She remembered that day when C.C. had found her.

The Middle Eastern Federation is an uncomfortable mix of Persian, Turkic and Arab Cultures. Each of the Khanates, Sultanates and Emirates that are the basis of the Federation are separated by an intricate web of loyalties over Religion, ethnicity, clan and region—and though they showed a united face to outsiders, wars between nations and ethnic groups were quite common.

Her village had been Persian and Shi'ite, in a region dominated by Sunni Arabs. It was a wonder they had survived so long peacefully. When the Shah handed over parts of the Arabia to the Emirates, the village lost its own protector.

It was C.C. who found her, in the ruins of her destroyed home.

It was C.C. who had given her a new name, a new identity.

C.C. gave her a Geass, a reason to live.

In a way, this was a better way to die than any.

"Heh," Soraya chuckled as her Geass activated.

* * *

><p>Instantly, a sphere of purplish-red light expanded—past C.C. or Sen or Mai Mai, past the tanks and snipers, even though the helicopter that waited in the skies—just as a sniper's bullet impacted into her head.<p>

"Heh…"

And instantly, every man and woman in the reach of the Geass died of a headshot.

A Geass of enforced Empathy—a Geass that synchronizes the nervous system of the subject with the original.

A Geass that makes everyone feel what the user feels.

And what Soraya's nervous system perceived at that moment was death.

Of course, no bullet penetrated their foreheads.

But it didn't matter that there was no actual bullet.

Each tank commander, each sniper, each pilot's nervous systems realized that they were dying.

And, as such, each of their nervous systems shut down.

Each of them, in their own minds, "died."

And when their minds died, their bodies died with them.

* * *

><p>Without a pilot, the Helicopter simply hovered in the air aimlessly.<p>

Tanks hummed on, unmoving.

And the last of the soldiers slumped to the ground, physically unharmed but clearly dead.

"C'mon, C.C., we may be able to get one of these jeeps working again."

C.C. ignored Mai Mai as she walked over to the dead body of her apprentice for a month.

"Thank you," she murmured, as the morning sun shone brightly down.

Like a rainstorm slowly ending, the sound of gunfire slackened, and then petered out as the last few defenders were flushed out, and an eerie silence filled the cave.

Exhausted Rangers wandered through the streets like the dying among the dead.

And, as the haze of bloodlust or the blankness of efficiency gave way, each of them could simply stare at the bodies around them.

Men, women children, the elderly.

Many of the Queen's Rangers had fought against ridiculous odds in ridiculous places, from the top of the Himalayas to the caves of Afghanistan.

They were Soldiers, Veterans, Warriors, Patriots.

But, when many of them looked back as they lay dying on some distant battlefield or died surrounded by friends and family, many of them would remember the day that they had come to become Murderers.

* * *

><p>4 Days Later<p>

Tehran, Kingdom of Persia, Middle Eastern Federation

* * *

><p>"The coffee here is disgusting," C.C. muttered.<p>

"Could be worse," Sen replied.

"Heheh, you guys don't know bad-tasting coffee," Mai Mai giggled.

The three Immortals said nothing as they finished their cups of coffee. Each of them had changed their appearances. With dyed-black hair, an urban jacket and a pair of sunglasses for anonymity, C.C. could well have passed as one of the many tourists or the city's urban elite, enjoying the night life. Sen, had shaved his long hair and unkempt beard, while Mai mai was now dressed like one of the many Somali traders and merchants who frequented Tehran.

"I just got word from my contacts in Britannia," Sen reported. "It seems like the Atlantis Directorate in Bermuda is occupied now by V.V.'s forces. Same goes with my directorate in Khagan."

Mai Mai sighed. "So it seems like we are wanderers without a home."

Once again, all three sipped at their coffee, three young people who had outlived all the chess-playing old men around them.

Mai Mai looked up from his newspaper. "So…what do we do?"

Sen, as well, looked to C.C., who blinked.

"Me? Why do I decide?"

"Because you're the leader of the Geass Directorate," Sen replied.

"A Geass Directorate of Three People," C.C. pointed out.

Sen shrugged. "Rules are rules."

"Well, then, we split up. V.V. and Charles will be searching for us now—it'd be bad to put all our eggs in one basket, right?"

Sen sipped from his cup of coffee. "We'll remain in hiding until V.V. is defeated. As long as he can't get all of us, he can't open up the sword."

Mai Mai nodded. "A solid plan. I suppose I could visit my great-grandchildren in Johannesburg…it'll be a little awkward after I faked my death to them, though."

Sen thought about it. "I'll return to Mongolia. The Chinese Federation isn't very fond of Britannia, after all."

C.C. considered returning to her old Thought Elevator in the English Republic, and decided against it. "I suppose I'll just wander a bit…"

For a moment, they each sipped their cups of coffee once again.

"So…this will probably be the last time we will see each other for a long while."

"Yep."

"Well … then I suppose it's farewell."

And, with that, each of them stood up out of their chairs, strangers once more.

C.C. looked up at the clear sky.

Everything had changed so fast. Marianne had died, and V.V. had turned against the Directorate.

she sighed as she looked back at the empty table. She hadn't told Sen and Mai Mai, but she would go back to Britannia.

To visit Marianne's grave.

Perhaps she would find her guidance there.

Over this week, she had lost everything.

She had lost her apprentice, her allies, her base, and her only friend.

She had went back to zero.

In a way, though, it was a new start.

C.C. smiled as she melted into the Persian Crowd.

Something told her that perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

* * *

><p><span>Footnotes:<span>

[1] The Imperial Chinese name for Vietnam, meaning the Peaceful South. Contrary to its name, Annam has always been characterized by war while under Chinese rule.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Well, that was the second pilot of Fate/Zero Eos! I'd say something, but this is Mr. Sparkle's show. And here he is.

**Mr. Sparkles:**

* * *

><p>Sparkly Postface<p>

* * *

><p>Oddly, this will only be the second fanfiction I post on . HeavyValor and I both started on separate fanfictions at the beginning, his being FateNightmare Apatheia, but at the end of it, my fic didn't really get anywhere—there were a lot of plot problems that began to show up, and even though I planned ahead through to the end, I kind of skimped out on stuff. As a big fan of the type-moon franchise, I really enjoyed reading Fate/Zero online, and when Valor suggested the idea of making a prequel that would combine the Second Pacific War/Invasion of Japan with the Fourth Holy Grail War, I was pretty ecstatic about it. Of course, this initial idea didn't transfer very smoothly – there's 7 years between the invasion of Japan and nightmare apatheia and 10 between the two grail wars. It was this kind of problem that had to be worked out in between pilots. Though I'm still not completely sure on some plot points, the general ideas for the prequel, Fate/Zero Eos (initially Fate/Zero Genesis) are down, though a lot of it is up to change. This pilot was initially meant to be the prologue, but I got a bit too carried away writing and wrote something completely different. As of now, I have a few prologues already done, and I'll probably start publishing next month. I hope you all look forwards to it.

In the meantime, the official Fate/Zero's second (and final) season begins in April (the first 12-episode season is already out, and Baka-Tsuki has complete translations of the light novel). Don't forget to catch it for a preview of some of the characters.

* * *

><p>ART. Here is a picture of the Immortals featured in this war.<p>

http:/heavyvalor. deviantart. com /art/Five-Immortals-290706179

Eliminate spaces.

Please, read and review. KEEP REVIEWS FOCUSED ON THE CHAPTER THAT YOU ARE REVIEWING. REVIEW SEPARATELY FOR EACH CHAPTER THAT YOU WISH TO REVIEW. I apologize for the rudeness, but this is simply to keep track of who likes what, to gage interest and to get distinct feedback for individual chapters. Thank you so much for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.

And now, without further ado, the next installment of F/NA. Enjoy.


	14. Aspect of Normalcy: Part 1

Chapter 9: Aspect of Normalcy

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1501 hours

Route 8, Area 11

* * *

><p>The quiet was dense.<p>

It wasn't just the awkwardness of unfamiliarity, though that was its significant component. It was the silence of resolution, of a focus on abolving the sins each passenger in that vehicle carried.

Shirou stared contemplatively at his hands. It was all over. His first fight.

Perhaps that was the wrong description for it. He had been in fights before. This was his first war.

That state of nature, that which necessitated the Leviathan. It was odd, but something Lelouch said was called up into Shirou's thoughts. It was the state of war that people always entered as their default. Like machines, fulfilling that base function was-

It was so strange. The feeling of metal warming in his hands, his eyes down the sights. And it was so natural, the alignment. But-

There was no art in it. More than ever, this experience proved what he told the Ashford Academy Rifles Team. Every time he was dragged to practice-

But he was defending someone. No, not just Saber. He had saved lives.

And ended others.

…

Nausea slammed into his gut, his throat. It finally hit him, held back by the previous circumstances. This was the consequence of acting in complete opposition to one's morals, one's basis of existence.

_What have I done?_

_How could I even think about the past, about the "art in it," when I killed?_

_Before, with Saber, it was so easy to- justify-_

He clenched his muscles, horrified that such a noble word could be used to- rationalize, comprehend, make right-

And his horror increased. Those noble words. Here he was, tainting them.

But before he entered the state of shock that had been present once before, on that battlefield-

_Think. That's what Lelouch has always said. "Above all, think logically. You may have more of a concern for morals than I do, Shirou, but without reasoning your morals through, you are no better than those who you are trying to bring to your 'justice.' If you want to understand the meaning of your morals, you cannot live in the dark."_

_I'm as bad as they are. Why- why was it so easy to kill? I took lives, lives I had no right to possess._

_It's this gun._

_No, I can't escape this burden by putting the blame on a tool. The tool is still immoral, but the user makes the choice._

_It was this situation._

_That's not right either. Again, I chose to kill. Killing is wrong._

_Lelouch would probably say "Under what circumstances?"_

_Lelouch would die for Nunnally. He'd probably kill for her too._

Shirou shook that thought out of his head. It was terrible, to think that anyone would want to harm Nunnally. Anyone who would-

_Would deserve to die._

_Lelouch would unreservedly say that. He would be defined by revenge if it happened._

_And if it did, I would willingly go with him._

_No, that isn't right. I wouldn't go with him to kill._

_I would accompany him to protect him, but never to kill._

_But that's- is that truly justice? In any court of law, that person would die. It's logical, in some sense. But that power is reserved for-_

Again, he shook his head. To think that he wouldn't even kill Nunnally's murderer-

_And I killed for even less. I killed for the lives of-_

_What is wrong with me? Here I am, saying that Nunnally is worth more than the lives of those children._

_There is something right with that, though. I still protected the lives of the innocent. Nunnally, who can't see or walk, is far more innocent than any of those children. She could never hurt anyone._

_Never._

_But could I kill for her?_

This startling question was satisfying. It wasn't the end of the logical discourse, but Shirou felt that he discovered something meaningful. Terrible, yet ... meaningful.

_So could I kill for the innocent, even if it meant taking more lives than I saved? The right, the absolute right thing to do would be to convince those who would harm Nunnally to stop. There would be no death._

_Killing is wrong, so I won't kill. But I could. I wouldn't, but I could._

_Is that right? My mind says that it is wrong. It is absolutely wrong to kill. My mind is like steel on that immovable fact._

_But my heart says that there is something just in doing wrong for someone right. No, not just right. Someone pure._

_But can I trust my heart? Lelouch. Kiritsugu. I understand that I'm obsessed with morals, with justice. Does that make me fit to be a Hero of Justice?_

_Why am I asking Lelouch in my head? He's here right now._

"Lelouch."

There was a delay in Lelouch's response. Shirou could tell that he had stirred Lelouch out of some complex thought.

"Hm?" Lelouch just kept looking forward in the front seat.

"Do you remember the first time we actually met?"

"Ashford's Rifles? Of course."

Similarly, Shirou paused, hesitant about asking his next question.

"The rifle. Why?"

It was a familiar question, one Shirou had always asked Lelouch. And uncharacteristically, Lelouch always gave a different answer every time. Sometimes, he was whimsical. Sometimes, he was serious.

"I'll admit, I was intrigued to see an archer arguing with a rifleman. But more than that, I thought you deserved a chance to fight for yourself." Lelouch paused. His expression was completely unreadable. "Why are you asking this now, Shirou?"

Again, Shirou didn't immediately answer. _Because- I had to use one today._ But he didn't say that.

"I miss those days, Lelouch. They were simpler."

Lelouch was surprised, turning in his seat to look at Shirou. "I didn't expect you to say that. I thought you would say that those times were more complex. Those days weren't easy for either of us."

"Yeah." Shirou nodded, and then asked his second question.

"Knowing me now, even if I wasn't your friend … Would you still have done the same thing?"

"To be honest, Shirou …" The reply was reluctant. "Even now, I believe you would have stood up for yourself and used that rifle. You just needed a way to avoid the consequences, and I wanted to provide it."

Shirou became quiet. Lelouch's words disturbed him more than they comforted him.

_So, I am a killer. I used a weapon to end lives for a reason as trivial as my honor, my worth. I'm no better than the ones who would kill the innocent._

Shirou held his gaze on the back of Lelouch's seat, frozen in place, unable to notice the worried expression on Saber's countenance. She held it briefly, before returning to her stoicism, trying to hide the pain in her hands.

* * *

><p>It was on this note that Shirou single-mindedly, blankly left the vehicle.<p>

An odd, chaotic spectacle greeted Shirou, as he opened the door of his residence.

A belligerent personality, with a voice brimming with narcissistic self-confidence, could be heard from the entrance. "So you're telling me that the Britannians aren't satisfied enough with their concrete towers, and want to settle in a nice, idyllic Japanese house? Don't make me laugh. You didn't have to invade us for that."

"Hey, we're Shirou's friends! Don't tell us to leave, you- you nitwit!"

"Bastard!"

At this expletive, Shirou ran, bursting into the kitchen. He saw Rivalz and Shinji, face to face, staring each other down. Rivalz was desperately trying to keep up a strong resistance, but it was crumbling quickly. Shinji used the little height he had over Rivalz to intimidate Rivalz into a shrinking, nervous mess. Milly and Shirley stood behind Rivalz, but it was obvious that Shinji's emotional upsurge had prevented them from getting a word in edgewise. Nina cowered in a corner, holding her head in her hands.

Behind Shinji were Issei and Sakura, both attempting to calm Shinji down. Sakura timidly opened and closed her mouth every time it looked like Shinji would stop. Of course, she never got a chance. Issei kept trying to get between the two combatants, but Shinji kept pushing him away.

Saber, C.C., and Lelouch entered just as the scene played itself out.

Shinji escalated the situation. "Get out, now! I'm not going to repeat myself, Britannian filth-!" Rivalz instinctively flinched when Shinji raised his hand-

Rivalz fell, red pouring into his cheek.

That was shameful.

Yeah, he had provoked the guy.

But he made a pass at Milly.

That thought enabled Rivalz to stare back defiantly, almost ready to return the blow.

But he flinched when he saw that hand raised once more.

And Shinji promptly found his hand stopped in its return for another strike, wrenched painfully behind his back, being pushed by a force behind him into the wall.

"What- who?" He turned, and saw Shirou.

"They're my friends, Shinji. And I don't recall inviting you in."

"I'm sorry for that, we couldn't help but enter to chase out trespassers. You can tell the truth, Shirou. You're among friends here. How much did they pay you? Or is it a fad, to have an _Eleven_ hang around like a dog? You never cared much about your pride." Shinji whispered, almost kindly, sympathetically.

Shirou stiffened, and unintentionally twisted Shinji's wrist. Even as Shinji clenched his muscles, Shirou spoke in a much harsher voice than he anticipated.

"They are my friends. I don't care what you say. Even if I'm Japanese, they've been true to me."

_Truer than you've ever been_. Shirou didn't say it or mean it, but Shinji heard it.

Shinji remained quiet for a few seconds. Then-

"So, you finally betrayed us. I thought so." He raised his voice. "You see, Sakura? Your _senpai_ isn't one of us. Never was. He picked up these imbeciles as soon as he could leave us."

Sakura remained silent, but Shirou could tell that those words hurt her. "Shut up."

"Oh, so this is the new- no, the true Shirou. So high and mighty, asserting his dominance as a Britannian over us poor, idiotic Japanese- whoops, Elevens. Excuse me, sir. I think I'd like to leave." Shinji twisted, expecting to be released. He couldn't escape Shirou's grasp. He growled. "So, maybe you'd like to enslave me, just like this nation was?"

Shirou was frozen. He stared blankly at Shinji, unable to register that this was actually happening-

_I'm no better._

_I never was any better than a murderer._

_How am I better than those that enslaved us?_

"Shirou-senpai, please. Please, let my brother go." Those gentle words came from an even gentler girl.

"You bitch. I don't need your help!" Shinji bucked and thrashed as best as he could, but Shirou remained like steel. "Damn you, Shirou! Damn you to hell! Notare jine!"

Shirou's grip tightened at the Japanese curse. Then, Sakura's voice came from behind him.

"Senpai, it's fine." Her hands took Shirou's, the cool touch loosening his grip on Shinji's left arm pinned behind his back, and removing Shirou's arm pressed against Shinji's upper back, which had locked Shinji against the wall. Shinji quickly twisted away from a blank Shirou.

"Thank you, _sir._" He turned to Sakura. "Come on. We're leaving this place."

Now, it was Sakura's turn to freeze.

She shied away as she spoke. "I- I'm staying here. I want to talk to Shirou-senpai."

Shinji almost lunged forward, but he saw Shirou step forward. "Sakura, you're not staying with this traitor."

She shook her head. "I'm staying."

Shinji snarled. However, he recognized that he couldn't do anything now. He looked at Issei.

"Ryuudou, let's go-"

Issei just narrowed his eyes, and shook his head.

"Fine! Fine, I'll just go! I'll-" Shinji choked on his words, his anger finally catching up to him. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then turned and stormed out of the room. The opening and slamming of a screen signaled his exit.

The room was preserved in a shocked silence.

Everyone's thoughts were on Shirou, on the person that they had waited for news of so eagerly. They sympathized with his conflict, thought they understood his conflict.

But only the new acquaintances thought differently.

Lelouch's associate was trying to read Shirou, to understand what this new Master was doing.

Shirou's companion in arms was the only one who understood what he was going through.

_Shirou … To emerge from one conflict and to enter into another is terrible. But to find the people you were fighting for thinking you are the enemy … Perhaps that is the worst experience a knight can have. This is the first step to becoming disillusioned. My Master needs rest. He cannot take any further disturbances._

Saber's thoughts were interrupted by-

"Hey, Shirou! Why didn't you tell me you were having a party?"

Everyone turned to the new arrival.

Sakura's quiet voice answered her. "Shirou just arrived, Fujimura-sensei."

"Shirou! Geez, coming home at a time like this -!"

And suddenly-

_Ah! Fuji-nee!_

_A brutal force started shaking me. Almost as if a tiger had pounced, a force of nature that was unstoppable and infinitely energetic. I was surprised, so surprised that Shinji's words were chased out of my mind._

"Ma'am." Lelouch leaned against the wall, coolly addressing the Japanese lady. "Shirou's been through quite a bit-"

The animated character before them ignored Lelouch's words completely, but they drew her attention. "You-?"

Recognition flashed briefly across the smiling face, and vanished as quickly as it came. "Do- Do I know you?"

Lelouch shook his head. "I don't think so. We're from Ashford-"

The doubt disappeared from newcomer's face. "So you're Shirou's friends from Ashford, right? It's about time we met!" She happily introduced herself and let go of Shirou. "I'm Fujimura Taiga- I mean, Ms. Taiga Fujimura. Please, call me Ms. Fujimura. I'm Shirou's guardian." Her short hair and rambunctious tiger shirt complemented her loud personality. "Hey, you guys! Introduce yourselves as well!"

Issei appeared to be taken aback, but he recovered quickly. "Hm. I suppose it's my turn. I'm Ryuudou Issei, a neighborhood friend of Emiya's." He straightened his glasses and shifted his hair out of his eyes. His hairstyle did look a bit like Lelouch's, but he was evidently an Eleven. Still, a dispassionate, cool expression conveyed a confidence uncommon to Elevens. This was the confidence of being oppressed, not defeated. The Japanese never lost the war, only a few battles and a treaty that ensured a coward's peace. They knew that their time as a free nation was still in their hearts and minds. And their reclamation would come. "A pleasure."

"H-Hi." Sakura bowed respectfully, her purple hair hiding her eyes from the visitors. "I'm Matou Sakura- Oh, I mean, Sakura Matou. It's very nice to meet you."

Taiga looked curiously at Sakura. "Hey, where's Shinji, Sakura-chan?"

An uncomfortable silence filled the room once again, which was interrupted by two voices.

"He went home."

"Guts!"

The shout of an imaginary spell came almost immediately after Sakura finished speaking. Despite being completely nonsensical to half the room, it had the desired effect of drawing everyone's attention to a certain busty, tall blonde.

"We should introduce ourselves as well! I'm Milly! So this is the mysterious side of Shirou's life, isn't it? Huh, I guess we're pretty mysterious as well." She looked pointedly at Rivalz, who coughed out his embarrassment.

"Hey, I'm Rivalz! Nice to meetcha as well!" As soon as Rivalz spoke, the awkward introduction of their president wore off, and the Student Council followed suit.

"Hi, I'm Shirley, Shirley Fenette!"

"Oh, I-I'm Nina."

"Lelouch Lamperouge."

With every introduction of a female from Ashford Academy, Taiga's face fell lower and lower, until she was almost scowling at Shirou. Shirou almost cringed.

_Words would not be able to describe what Fuji-nee is thinking. It's a dangerous expression on her face right now._

This went unnoticed as everyone turned to the girls beside Shirou and Lelouch. C.C. and Saber hesitated, until Saber motioned to C.C. to speak first.

"C.C."

"Saber."

* * *

><p>The contrast between loneliness and solitude.<p>

They had experienced the wealth of life, one with immortality, the other power and legend.

They found it wanting.

Loneliness is a terrifying word. The implications of illusion, of disguising the pain of being without. It is imposed by the presence of others.

Solitude is absolute glory in absolute independence. It is chosen.

Which of the two did they experience?

* * *

><p>Their simple introductions left no room for reply. The silence firmly established their separation from any aspect of normalcy-<p>

"Well, we're glad you were all able to come! Now, as president of the Ashford Academy Student Council, I declare this event to have officially begun! All guests are welcome to participate!"

Somehow, solitude or loneliness seemed preferable to normalcy.

Milly looked around, the passive, expectant gazes on her quickly turning away.

This was the most difficult part to get around, the awkwardness of bringing together two radically different groups together, tied together by only one person. Shirou.

And she had forgotten to mention what the event was.

Lelouch coolly watched Milly's composure slip ever so slowly. Milly seemed impulsive to those who first met her, but Lelouch understood the mechanics of charisma. The first step was going up and baring yourself to the audience. The connection is made by sacrificing some dignity, to reveal a portion of who you are, or to reveal a hesitancy under the mask of human interaction. Then, you hope people sympathize with you. To honor that sacrifice, the baring of a desire for contact. The task is made easier by common interest, yet in all, the fundamental offering is the same.

But there is an alternative. Becoming invulnerable to whatever judgments others may come to have about you. The first way is not to care. The second is ascending your mask to become all that you are, all that you want others to see.

_All I want people to see is Nunnally smiling._

_Before that … A sacrifice, to show all that I want to show._

_Zero._

With that, Lelouch decided to help Milly. After all, if there was someone who deserved sympathy …

"I believe you forgot to mention what this event is, Milly."

Relieved, Milly clapped her hands together. "Right, Lelouch! We're going to cook and feast the night away to celebrate the beginning of the school year!"

At the mention of food, Taiga immediately jumped on board.

"I agree! Food is essential to life! I knew Shirou would become friends with good people!" Apparently, anyone who would cook for Taiga was a good person.

With the two outgoing forces up and ready, an unstoppable vehicle aimed at uniting the two groups was set in motion. And just like that, a common basis was made on Milly's sacrifice, for a firm friendship between the two parties.

"We're agreed, then! To the kitchen!"

She pulled Shirley and Nina up, and grabbed Sakura as well. It was an effective tactic, herding together the girls from the guys to get whatever juicy information Milly could out of Shirou's friends.

C.C. and Saber began to follow their charges, but Milly dragged them to the girl's group.

"Come on, you can hang out with the guys later! It's girl time now!"

C.C. shrugged, and simply complied, but Saber hesitated, looking at Shirou. Shirou nodded.

_Well, well. She's quite obedient to Shirou. I never expected Shirou to be that sort of guy, or Saber to be that sort of girl. I am going to tease him **so** much about it._ Milly was dying of happiness on the inside. She finally had something on Shirou.

* * *

><p>It was traditional for the Student Council to split up by gender when preparing one of their Milly-sanctioned dinners. Originally, it was to prevent Lelouch and Shirou's culinary expertise from overwhelming the girls' attempts at cooking. Now, it was to prevent the guys from hearing all of the gossip that was exchanged about sensitive information that required the utmost attention.<p>

Shirley began checking out her competition. "So, C.C.. That's an unusual name and- ah- hair you have."

"It's natural. And from the homeland, this is a natural hair color."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

_Yes, you did._ "It's not a problem."

Shirley sighed in relief. "So, how'd you meet Lelouch? Did you just meet him? Are you-"

_This girl is quite inquisitive._ The memory ran through, of a young Lelouch and Suzaku watching the battle unfold over Mount Fuji. "I knew him seven years ago. I ran into Lelouch recently. He made a promise about our future together."

"Wha-!" Shirley couldn't believe it. It- that- "Lelouch wouldn't-"

"I wouldn't what, Shirley?" Lelouch's voice drifted from across the kitchen.

"Lelouch, our promise."

"-!"

Laughs from Rivalz wafted through the divider between the two sides of the kitchen.

"Can't wiggle out of this one, Lelouch!"

Shirley didn't say anything. She seemed like she was in shock.

"C.C., it does seem uncharacteristic for Lelouch." Milly could usually tell when one girl was teasing another. Before, she was uncertain. C.C. was completely unreadable. Now, Milly could tell something was off. It was girls like these that she disliked, girls who were like her in gathering all of those tasty tidbits across campus, but used them the wrong way.

But that didn't make any sense. C.C. didn't even know Shirley. And it would make sense for Lelouch to introduce his girlfriend sometime in a Student Council event, much less awkward than bringing her to class or something. And it was decently high profile, too.

_Still, poor Shirley. She had known Lelouch since-_

_Well, if time was the deciding factor here, C.C. had him by rights. She knew him since they were children, apparently._

_And she was wearing his clothes-_

_Huh?_

"Well, the situation required a speedy decision." C.C. became cautious, wording her statements carefully. Milly was a sharp lady. "I-"

"C.C., are those Lelouch's clothes?" Milly went straight to the point.

C.C. inspected herself. "Yes, I suppose so."

Sakura covered her mouth. She found this talk easygoing, carefree, yet … downright indecent.

Shirley's reaction was similarly tame. There wasn't much she could do or say. Lelouch finally made a move on a girl. She had never known he liked that sort of girl.

_I guess I'll never know what it's like being liked by him._

_I'll put a smile on, then._

"W-Well, I guess we'll be seeing you with Lelouch a lot, huh?"

C.C. realized that she had made a mistake. She took the joke too far. But this … this was a situation she had never handled before.

She specialized in destroying minds. She was transformed into a conduit for transferring the horrors of consciousness. This was out of her expertise.

The Code disqualified her from being a member of humanity.

But …

_Curious._

She was willing to try to repair the damage.

"A-Ah, Shirley. I think you have the wrong impression. It's not like Lelouch and I are- are in a relationship. We're just friends. I wanted him to promise that he'd continue that friendship."

The right amount of stuttering. The right words. No lies.

_Am I not human because I calculated this? Or am I human because I tried?_

Shirley was visibly relieved. "I'm sorry for misunderstanding."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that all up!" Milly grabbed the ingredients for the side dishes. "C'mon, the guys have a huge head start over us! Let's go!"

* * *

><p>"Wonder how the girls are doing, eh, Lelouch?"<p>

"Can't talk, Rivalz. I'm putting the sauce on the seabass."

Shirou sighed. "Lelouch, that's not a difficult task for someone of your skill."

"Ow." Issei sucked on his finger. "I don't think I'm exactly cut out for this cooking thing."

"Well, guys, I'm sure the girls are gossiping amongst themselves, so let's counter them with some of our own guy talk!" Rivalz sat down next Issei and watched to Shirou and Lelouch, who were frantically preparing the main courses.

Shirou quickly checked the main living room, where Fuji-nee was snoozing quietly. She was completely out.

"Rivalz, Fuji-nee would hurt us. Badly."

"So? We'll keep it quiet. So, Shirou …" Rivalz grinned maliciously. "What's up with Saber, hmm? We heard all about Lelouch's love life, now it's time for yours!"

"Rivalz, are you sure you're not gay? Is your affection for Milly just a sham?"

"Oh, come on, Shirou! I'm certainly not as fabulous as our viceroy! You can spill the beans, you're among men here!" Rivalz crossed his arms and continued his grin. "Out of all of us now, your love life is the most mysterious! It isn't everyday our two protagonists of this drama called life have mysterious girls accompany them! So spill! Saber's certainly _very_ pretty, but she's a little _young_ for your age, isn't she?" He suddenly peered at Shirou's face, waiting to catch his reaction.

Shirou had to stop cooking and turned away. His face went completely red. He coughed, trying to hide his face.

"Oooh, man! So she is younger than us! Our epitome of moral character, succumbing to a nubile, cute-"

"It's not like that, Rivalz." Shirou looked nervously at Taiga. Her breathing still was that of one slumbering. "Besides, at the very least, she's-"

14? 13? She could even be 12 years old, if you went by Britannian growth rates. She was easily the shortest girl in the room, and … somewhat underdeveloped.

"Shirou, at most, she's 15 years old." Lelouch's dispassionate face barely hid a smoldering mirth.

…

"Crap."

The laughter filled the room. They were, for the most part, at the age of 17. Shirou was almost 17, but for some reason, Rivalz and Lelouch still held him at their age.

"Guys, look. She's just a friend."

"Friend, hm? Well, Shirou, I wonder what you would do with someone you would consider your girlfriend." Lelouch finally smiled at Shirou's astonishment.

"What- what do you mean?"

"Milly gives hints."

"-!" Shirou turned back to his pot and stirred it furiously. Of course, Milly would tell her second in command about any newcomers to campus. She wouldn't tell the "truth" of Saber's "nobility," but she would leave morsels of gossip for others to find. Gossip this sensitive, though, would only go to someone she could trust to be quiet.

Hence, Lelouch probably knew about the state of Saber's perceived arrival in Ashford Academy as-

_As a noble girl who "slept" with me?_

Shirou flushed once more, to the delight of Rivalz.

"Lelouch! What'd Milly tell you? Awww, I promise I won't tell!"

Shirou grumbled in frustration. "Issei, please back me up here. I'm not-"

"Shirou, she is a bit young for you to be going out with her alone."

"Issei, we haven't been alone together at all! What-"

"Well, you were at Shinjuku with her, right?"

_Shinjuku. Right._

"Hey, yeah! What happened in Shinjuku, Shirou?"

Shirou sighed, hesitant to answer Rivalz's question with the full truth. "… I tried to help people."

"Oh, that's cool! So Saber wanted to help? I guess she is interested in you, huh? I mean, I would have taken her somewhere nicer, but-"

The atmosphere of the room grew chilly for a moment. Shirou glared at Rivalz. The hard, gold gleam in his eyes caused Rivalz to quiet down.

"Well, I- I guess those people needed help, too …" Rivalz's apologetic expression turned back to his normal, energetic self quite quickly. "So- Um- How'd you two meet?"

"Well … I ran into her, and she wanted me-"

"Oooh, I see. She asked you out!"

"I- what? No, don't leap to assumptions like that!"

Lelouch could see where this was going. He nudged Issei, and whispered, "Watch a master at work."

Rivalz was back in his field, and perhaps was taking it a bit too far, but he wanted to bring the conversation far from the seriousness that just occurred. "Well, so you asked her out?"

"No-"

"Then was it mutual? Love at first sight?"

"It's nothing like- We're not in a relationship-"

"Oh, I know. She appeared to you like an angel, and you couldn't help but be her hero. She saves you from your forever serious situation, some major malfunction. But you have to repay the debt, because she's a lady. So you sweep her off her feet with your typical 'Hero of Justice' antics. And the bond is formed, you caress her in your arms like the conquering hero! And love blossoms, and you take her to bed, and-" Rivalz stopped. "Um, Shirou?"

Shirou paled. The ladle he was stirring with was still.

Lelouch and Issei watched the subject of the master's ministrations remain motionless.

"Shirou, I was just kidding. It didn't happen like that, right? You're Shirou! You're the one who berates us about being like chivalrous heroes! That didn't happen!" Rivalz couldn't believe it. "Did it?"

Shirou remained silent.

"Shirou, we're going to have a long talk after this dinner."

…

_Fuji-nee!_

* * *

><p>"Saber."<p>

Saber looked up from the carrots she was chopping. She had already gone through two cutting boards, and almost through a third.

"C.C.."

"We should talk."

"… Agreed, False Master."

The sides of C.C.'s mouth turned upwards in a semblance of a smile. "That brings back memories, Ruler-chan."

"Do you wish to test your immortality today?"

"Only if you want to test your sanity."

Saber thudded the knife down, embedding it in the wood of the cutting board. Only the outer edges remained. The splinters were spread across the counter. "Outside?"

"Just in the hall. You'd probably want to get away from that knife. You're certainly no Shiki." The words flew out of C.C.'s mouth, before she could think about them. She realized that she mentioned Shiki. She shook off the melancholy, which surprised her with its strength. _Shiki's gone._

Saber looked at the knife and the small pile of cutting-board kindling, somewhat embarrassed. "I will repay Shirou."

"I'm certain you will, tonight." C.C. smirked, as the double entendre completely flew over Saber's head.

They walked past the spectacle with Milly showering Sakura and Shirley with water from the faucet.

"I'm surprised that they didn't inquire about your relationship with your Master."

Saber looked inquiringly at C.C.. "Relationship?"

C.C. shook her head. "… It's not important."

They entered the hall, dark and wooden, illuminated only by the light from the kitchen festivities.

"So, Saber. I supposed we'll be working together soon."

Saber's reaction to this was surprisingly protective. "… Are you offering your contract again? Shirou is not Kiritsugu. He is not a fit candidate for the power of Kings. He would accept it without hesitation, and become like-"

"Mao. Fine."

"Mao?"

C.C. sighed. "Another Immortal repeated the mistake of Berserker's Master."

Saber stayed silent, then she exhaled. "That is a problem."

"I would think so. A lot had happened since the last War. The Fourth War has made Britannia much more prepared for Servants. Even if we work together, I don't think we can win this."

Even in the dark, Saber could tell something was wrong with C.C.. "What did you see?"

The Immortal imitated the darkness, vague and muted. I_ can't say. I don't think I can._ "Call it a hunch."

Saber opened her mouth, about to reply, but Milly's voice pulled their attention.

"Saber! C.C.! Time for dinner!"

"I smell pizza."

"…"

* * *

><p>Milly was all over the room, inspecting each dish in awe. "Wow, guys! You sure outdid yourselves!"<p>

"Woooooaaaah!" Taiga's jaw dropped, before she picked it up and started clapping happily.

The table was filled with Japanese and Britannian cuisine, and quite a few in between. Shirou and Lelouch looked weary, with their aprons besmirched and besoiled, but they were satisfied with how the meal turned out.

Shirou glanced at Saber. Her expression appeared stoic as usual, but there was a gleam in her verdant eyes that he had never saw before. She was excited.

_She's happy._

Shirou quickly tore his eyes away from Saber, hoping that Rivalz didn't notice. Unfortunately, Milly was nodding at him, smiling.

"Well, what're we waiting for? Let's eat!" Shirley grabbed a seat next to Lelouch. "C'mon, Lelouch! Sit down!"

Bemused, Lelouch obliged. Shirley was unusually blissful today, even more than her standard outgoing self.

Somehow, as Shirou finished running back and forth to and from the kitchen, the last seat open was next to Saber.

Milly and Rivalz smiled at each other, then at Shirou.

_Honestly, I don't mind sitting next to Saber. But Milly and Rivalz are probably going to ask Saber certain questions, and she won't know how to answer them. What can I come up with? If I speak for Saber, they'll think- No, I won't even go there! She's way too young for that! It's a Master and Servant relationship, not- Oh, great._

_It is that sort of relationship._

_Then they better not find out._

_What sort of screwed up War is this?_

_I'll let Saber do the talking. If they see how innocent she is, they're sure to-_

"Shirou, you should eat."

Shirou blinked. Saber had tapped him on the shoulder, looking somewhat concerned. In her hands were a pair of chopsticks, and the other a small bowl of rice.

In a small bite, she munched on a clump of rice, chewing quietly.

_Ah. She doesn't eat much._

_That's adorable._

_Wait._

Shirou looked around the table. Around Saber was a swath of cleaned plates and empty dishes.

"Saber, where did the food go?"

She looked curiously at Shirou.

"I ate my share at the table."

Usually, the Student Council's dinners were extravagant affairs, and this was no exception. Usually, the leftovers lasted them for two days straight.

A clean portion of each dish was taken, and the plates in front of Saber clean.

Food was evidently gone, but the consumer was still going strong with that small bowl of rice.

"This food is quite excellent, Shirou."

"… I'm glad you enjoyed it, Saber."

Shirou quickly grabbed his portion of the dishes. The Britannian food contrasted sharply with the Japanese cuisine, but the dishes were made to accommodate everyone. Besides, he enjoyed both.

He observed that nobody had noticed the vanished food. Everyone was trying to consume the prodigious amounts in front of them.

Saber was watching them.

"Saber, are you still hungry?"

She nodded. The look on her face … Shirou couldn't quite place it, but it was like a child asking for the most serious thing in the world to them, solemn and innocent. Food.

"Here." Shirou handed her a bowl of udon. Hopefully, the long noodles would occupy her until the others finished. Then, it would be fair for her to eat whatever was left, if she could.

Saber took it appreciatively. "Thank you."

"So, Saber!"

Saber turned her gaze from Shirou to Milly. "Yes, Milly?"

Strangely, Milly was in the same position as Rivalz, leaning forwards eagerly. Over her plate of Sunday roast, Milly's chest hovered precariously. "How do you like Area Eleven? It must be different from the homeland,"

"I have been here before, but every visit in Japan is a worthy experience." Saber looked at the udon. The steam was reducing in volume. She used her chopsticks to lift a strand up, but was interrupted.

"Yeah, I know! It's really nice here! We were wondering how you came here, and how you met Shirou!"

"Ah." Saber consumed the strand gracefully, and chewed thoughtfully.

_I do not know what Shirou has told them, but I doubt he said much._

_Milly knows the "truth." I believe that she's asking this to firmly establish my standing as a Kenway._

C.C.'s words echoed in her head. _"I'm surprised that they didn't inquire about your relationship with your Master."_

_They are simply children._

_The youth I never had. Though … I was once like this. Those days were full of bliss and dreams. Weren't they, Kay?_

_But now … What matters is bringing Shirou through to the next day. I will let him have this one last moment of innocence, before I draw him into the lonely battlefield._

"I wanted to escape the proceedings of my father's estate. Father's advisors are all squabbling over his assets, and I want nothing to do with it. My father conducted some business with Kiritsugu- ah, Shirou's father- some time before, and I simply enquired into the possibility of staying here." _Simple, vague, and believable. Shirou gave me this opportunity to enjoy a part of his life. I will not inconvenience him because of that generosity._

"So you decided to stay with Shirou anyway, after hearing that Kiritsugu wasn't here? Why would you? You didn't even know Shirou!" Taiga burst out, spraying chicken bits about her plate.

"I trust Shirou."

With that, she closed her eyes for a moment and let herself smile gently, bowing her head slightly.

She was content. She had done something right by her master.

She had succeeded in creating a defense for her presence and her master's honor.

All of her movements were light, conveying nobility and grace.

_I have protected my master's life, and have repaid him for this kindness._

That simple statement caused Shirou to stop eating and flush, Milly and Rivalz to almost fall into their food, and Shirley to quietly say "Awww …"

Sakura remained silent, as she did throughout the dinner.

Even Taiga was stunned. Then, her mouth opened and closed, like a fish's.

Then-

"You lived in the palace?"

Lelouch saw his opportunity. He would uncover this false noble's intentions. Even if she was far nobler than any noble he had ever seen.

"Yes." Saber instantly drew her guard. From her previous discussion with the tall boy, she knew he would be a threat to the story Milly cooked up for her.

"I'm surprised you came to Japan. You seem like a person who's capable of taking care of Lord Kenway's inheritance and responsibilities."

"I did not like handling his finances. The stresses of a noble's life, alone, were daunting as well."

"Of course." Lelouch went straight to the target. "I meant his responsibility to the Emperor's court. He was a trusted advisor of the Emperor, and despite his age, he served admirably until he died.

"I have great respect for your father. I'm just wondering why you didn't try to continue his duties, as is customary of a noble's heir." _I still remember those days in Aries Villa, Lord Kenway discussing politics with my mother and father._

Saber, to her credit, did not pause in hesitation. "I did not find myself fit to attempt to fill so great a role. Perhaps in the future, but I believe only those fit to rule should."

"Fit. That's a … fitting word for the qualification, but I think you think too little of your skill." Lelouch crossed his hands. "There are too many nobles who try to hold the emperor's ear close for their interests. I think you're far more capable than the vast majority of them. I won't go into criticism, but I'll ask this: What would you think qualifies as fit?"

Saber took a moment to consider that question. "I believe the will to surrender your life for the nation is, first and foremost, among the qualities necessary to occupy a position of power. After this is courage, valor, and honor. To serve, one must be able to understand and respect the value of his fellow servants to the nation."

Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "You give these virtues much credit, Saber. I would say that intellect and power would be the qualifications to be fit first, followed by these virtues. Even an intelligent ruler without such values would serve his nation better than a ruler with only these values, because it still serves the intelligent ruler to protect his subjects. Good intentions without guidance pave a dangerous road to oppression."

For a moment, Saber felt a sliver of regret and anger in her, but dismissed it. "Good intentions may pave the road to such a hell, but it is better to build a kingdom on these than to have a kingdom stand on intellect and might alone. A kingdom is built on the ideals that its leaders stand for. If the leader is good and just, then the nation's people will be motivated by such good sentiments.

She spread her hands wide. "What ideals could be the basis for good service to the kingdom, if the leader holds the opposite ideals for such service? I believe what you qualify as fit comes with the will to serve."

She sighed, and took the plunge. "These morals are not something acquired when convenient, or disposed of when they do not lead to the most intelligent course of action. Instead, I believe that a ruler must remain forever faithful to these morals, and let the blessings and curses come as they may. Seek the Kingdom righteously above all else, and all of these talents will be given as well." [1]

Lelouch's surprise appeared, and vanished. "That's from the Christian Bible, right? Well, I suppose it applies, if you believe in a 'higher power.' I have to disagree, though. People who are capable by my definition-"

Here, Lelouch gestured towards himself. "-would have no reason to listen to those fit by yours. They would take what they want. If you believe in a guiding force for these morals, so be it. But I haven't seen that force.

_At all._

"I just have two more questions. If you define fit as such, then why do you think you're unfit? And do you think our emperor is fit, then?"

Saber, after following Lelouch's argument, was briefly taken aback. "I …

_I am unfit._

"I am unfit to take my father's position because I am not willing enough to part with my life. Right now, I have other concerns to safeguard. My obligation to my duties as-

_A Servant._

"-a-"

_A fallen king._

She ceased midsentence. "I apologize. I am not ready to answer that question yet. But as to your question about the emperor, he will be judged when it is his time to be judged. I am in no position to say."

"I see. I'm sorry for putting you in such an uncomfortable situation, Saber." Lelouch found himself actually … admiring this young lady. It was a long time since he had experienced that feeling.

"No, thank you. I appreciated this conversation, Lelouch." Saber looked around the room, and found everyone transfixed.

_Alas, the udon is cool now._

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 2008 hours<p>

* * *

><p>The rest of the dinner had passed quickly.<p>

The last conversations were subdued, simple queries on "How was your day?" or "What do you think of so-and-so?" It was simple, it was normal.

Shirou stood at the door, playing the gracious host as much as he could with Fujimura Taiga over his shoulder.

"Goodbye, and thank you for coming over." He bowed formally, before-

That force again.

Taiga clapped him on the back, almost making him stumble.

"Yes, please do come again! Thank you, thank you! Have a good night!" She guided the two parties outside, smiling gleefully. "Yes, it certainly was fun! Goodbye!"

"Yes, Ms. Fuji-

Taiga slammed the door of the Emiya residence before Milly could finish.

"-mura."

Milly was somewhat off-put, but she recovered quickly.

"Well, guys! The Student Council Dinner is officially over! Time to go home!"

Taiga locked the door, muffling Milly's fading voice of exclamations and plans for the next dinner.

A growl rumbled through the tiger's throat. "Shirou …"

Shirou gulped. This was bad.

At least Saber was here to protect him.

Taiga turned to follow Shirou's gaze.

"Eeehhhhhhh! What are you still doing here? I thought I sent you home with those Ashford students!"

Saber returned Taiga's confrontation coolly.

"I am staying with Shirou."

…

The tiger roared. She pivoted and grabbed Shirou's arms, trying to rattle his body and shake some sense into the girl-crazed boy.

"When did you _become_ like this? I knew that it was a mistake to allow you into a Britannian school!"

"Fuji-nee-"

"I should have dragged you to high school! There, I would've been able to watch your indecent impulses! What was with that blonde- that Milly? It- _Those_ were enormous! You- you letch!"

"But-"

"No buts! And that other girl, Shirley! And those skirts, those look like something you'd find on the- the- the _red light _district! Those Britannians have no sense of modesty. And this girl, Saber! She's staying here! With you! This is unbelievable!" Taiga took a deep breath before continuing her tirade.

"What's going on? So, what do you have to say for yourself- Eh?" Fujimura Taiga found her arms encased in the grip of Saber's hands.

"Please let go of Shirou." Saber took a sharp intake of air. Her hands complained with an electric coursing through her nerves. The only indication of pain was the subtle clenching of her jaw. She pulled despite it, and removed Taiga's hands forcefully.

A brutal urge burst into Saber's hands, and it took all of Saber's mental fortitude to suppress it.

Still, her hands were like vices. Taiga flinched.

"Saber, it's alright." Shirou gently pulled at Saber's wrists, and she released Fuji-nee. Fuji-nee looked alarmed.

"Shirou, who_ is _this girl? First, I hear that you're running around in Shinjuku, and now you've brought a girl back! Sakura-chan was so worried-"

"Fuji-nee, Saber told you who she was. Her father knew Kiritsugu."

"I don't buy that! Somehow, you bring a girl home after you just met her? You know what sort of girl does that! And how old is she anyway? She doesn't even look like she hit puberty yet! Nope, she's not staying here!"

"Fuji-nee, you're overreacting."

"No, I'm not! Shirou, I'm your guardian! I won't let you engage in irresponsible behavior!"

Saber stepped forward, looking up at Taiga squarely in the eye. "Ms. Fujimura, is there any way I can convince you of my honor?"

"Nope." Taiga raised her head in a superior fashion, crossing her arms and looking down on Saber.

She tried to hold Saber's regard, but Taiga could only sustain the king's eyes for a few seconds.

For a moment, Taiga felt fear. _Who is this girl?_

Suddenly, Taiga beamed. "A duel! We'll have a duel!

* * *

><p>The dojo was host to the hostilities between the teacher and the Servant.<p>

The eyes of the combatants were locked on each other.

Taiga held her guard low, smiling. She was taller than her opponent, and she was Japanese. A Britannian would have no idea how to wield a shinai. [8] She would send Shirou's object of lust to the pavement outside, with a few bruises to boot.

She was going to enjoy this.

And afterwards, she would teach Shirou how to properly pick a girl. With her shinai, a replica of her tournament sword, if she could help it. The warm wood in her hands fired up her confidence above her natural levels. The wooden length was her instrument of instruction.

"Are you ready to face Fujimura Taiga, the-"

"The Tiger of Fuyuki, Fuji-nee? I'm telling you, this is a bad idea!" Shirou shouted from the sidelines.

"Don't call me Tiger! Prepare yourself, Saber!"

She charged, even before Saber lifted her own weapon.

_Too slow!_

After her first step, she had already raised her shinai above her head.

Her second step brought her within striking range.

"Kyaaaaa!"

_That girl still hasn't drawn her weapon! All she did was shift her-_

Taiga struck in an arc at air.

_Eeehhhh?_

Tap.

She felt the other shinai touch her head.

She spun around, her guard up once again.

Saber was standing in front of her.

"Haa!"

Taiga swung at Saber, and she was able to see her step back, just enough to avoid the tip of Taiga's shinai.

Tap.

Saber's shinai touched Taiga's stomach.

And Saber had disappeared.

_What?_

Taiga looked to her left. Saber was nowhere to be seen.

_How?_

To her right, there was nothing.

_Behind-!_

She spun around, her shinai outstretched in a backwards stroke.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Wham.

Tap.

_B-but, how?_

* * *

><p>Shirou had never seen Saber's grace in combat. However, here she was in full splendor.<p>

She was holding herself back, and Shirou could watch her defend herself at a natural speed.

She sidestepped the first two blows, which wasn't anything special.

Her counterattack was an example of technical art with the shinai.

She swung forward right as Taiga turned, touching her leg.

She twisted under the backstroke, stabbing lightly at Taiga's stomach again.

As the backstroke continued, a quick upward blow hit Taiga's left arm.

The sword changed directions, and came down on Taiga's shinai hard. Taiga's shinai flew out of her hand.

A final strike rapped Taiga on the head.

Fuji-nee wobbled, then fell to the ground, clutching the top of her head. "Owww."

Saber's shinai followed Taiga. The tip hovered before her face, the handle grasped by both of Saber's hands.

"Do you wish to continue?"

Taiga looked up, her eyes wide and tearful. She rapidly brought her head down, trembling.

Saber turned away and began walking towards Shirou.

Shirou didn't know what to say. Except-

"Saber!"

His alarmed voice caused her to pause.

"Kyaaaaa!"

Taiga had picked her shinai again and charged.

For a moment, he thought he saw Saber shiver.

She bowed her head. Then, she pivoted quickly.

An imperious, cold, clear voice rang out across the dojo.

**_"Coward."_**

Something was wrong. Shirou began running forward.

The full circle cut made by Saber was not of the grace she possessed just before. It was a brutal, murderous slash that was whipped into complete contact with Taiga's shinai.

The impact lifted Taiga off the ground for a full half second, before she landed on her feet, stumbling backwards until she was able to get steady again. She was now half the dojo's span away from Saber.

Taiga charged yet again.

Her feet pattered on the wooden floor, her shinai once more over her head, directed at the girl with a downcast head in front of her.

Saber's guard as completely lowered, her shinai touching the ground. Her eyes were shielded by the front of her hair as she stared at the floor.

The air changed, and the sound of the charge grew louder.

Striking distance achieved, Taiga brought her shinai down.

_That was a strong hit, but I'm fighting for Shirou! I'll hit her for sure!_

But she didn't. Her sword was stopped inches away from Saber's head.

In front of Saber, faintly to her side, was Shirou.

She looked at the length of her shinai. It was blocked by Shirou's forearm.

Saber was motionless, her shinai on the ground. Her hands were clenched in fists, shaking at her sides.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Split up into two chapters, for ease of reading. May be edited sometime.


	15. Aspect of Normalcy: Part 2

**AN: **This is just a split of the old chapter, for ease of reading. Thank you,

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 1630 hours<p>

Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>Exhale.<p>

Feel the concentration enter your body.

You'll get more out of them that way.

"Director, you know those pills look pretty suspicious, right?"

"They're mints. Don't write me up."

Kayeri Brant III, Deputy Director of Inspection, of the Office of Special Intelligence, Area Eleven Analysis, swallowed his daily cocktail of mints and 0.5% Diazepam.

His assistant, whose name he had already forgotten, turned to watch the dead landscape coming up.

Kayeri was not very good at judging the gravity of situations. In his late twenties, he was surprisingly fit and youthful for his position, but there was something in his expression that conveyed the weariness of a long-travelled veteran. His entire appearance fit the quiet way he spoke, grey suit and light skin tinged with the tan from his ancestors and untidy, coarse hair bundled into what was closer to a broom than a ponytail.

Descended from Iroquois aristocracy, many thought he climbed up to his station using the rungs of his respected ancestry. The Iroquois were perhaps the most loyal of Britannia's subjects, serving as Britannia's first allies, from defending the homeland in Washington's Revolution to leading the invasion of Japan during the Pacific Incident. Kayeri, like his ancestors, did not use his family. Dedicated service to the Crown got him to where he was.

He sighed. He did enough reminiscing. The sharpness of the mint in his mouth was distinct from the soothing of his nerves from the drug.

"Well, let's get started." He stepped out of the black HC47-Chinook, acknowledging the salutes of two soldiers with a nod.

The sight that greeted him made him wish he took a stronger concentration. Maybe 0.7%.

A battered landscape, smoke stacking up between concrete slabs in parodies of the structures they were supposed to be.

The centerpiece was a burnt-out wreck of a G1 Base, the scarred insignia of the Britannian Flag merged with Prince Clovis's heraldry emblazoned on its side.

Two blocks away was an impromptu base of two parties surrounding a broken white giant. Kayeri's OSIA11A, and the ASCEEC.

_Intelligence against a research engineering corps._

Most academics in the modern day rejected organized religion as a relic of the superstitious past, but the religious fervor with which they often clung onto their little pet projects made them the second most unmanageable crowd after lawyers.

_There's going to be quite a scene. If there hasn't been one already._

_This was supposed to be a simple contain of a terrorist response. No better way to start off the day than dealing with scientists and politicians._

There were three questions that Kayeri considered, three more than he wanted to answer.

_One. Why was Cornelia here? Clovis had this Area under control._

_Two. How the was she killed by a bunch of small-time terrorists?_

_Three. What is an engineering corps under Schneizel doing here? Live testing of a next-gen knightmare is one thing. Getting it wrecked is another._

The heavily armored Winston APC brought him straight into the fray.

Well, the fray between an irate Lloyd and the two senior agents he had sent to supervise the investigation. Most of the engineers were provided gracious housing in processing tents.

Kayeri had no compunctions about containing a unit under Prince Schneizel's command. This was his investigation, whether he wanted to investigate it or not.

He was looking forward to seeing Lloyd again.

_Oh boy, here we go._

Kayeri stood back for a moment to watch the show. For all his brilliance, Lloyd had the composure of a fifteen year old girl.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on here? I have my Lancelot to tend to! No- Don't even touch him! Get away, shoo, shoo!"

The lanky man was petulantly tapping his foot, waving his hands at the agents herding the Engineering Envoys into the tents.

Lloyd. Quirky as ever.

"Earl Lloyd Asplund, please stop violating the personal space of my agents. They get enough of that from your mother."

Lloyd spun around. He peered forward at Kayeri, and then grinned cheerfully.

"Kayeri! Ohooo, you're the one in charge here? How goes it, paper pusher?"

"Could be worse. I could be dying of leukemia." Kayeri chuckled. Even after what Lloyd and Rakshata had done to Kayeri, he couldn't help but enjoy their antics. The doctors told him it was alright to feel anger, but he didn't feel any animosity towards them.

Still, this was serious business.

"I'm here on business, Lloyd. I think you know why. I'd appreciate it if you could make my job easier."

"Ahaaa, that's a problem, isn't it? I'm afraid I can't do that, dear boy. I'm on a very secret, special mission from Schneizel! I do need my engineers from your spooks, so if you'd be so kind-"

"Lloyd, you know how this works. Don't make this ugly."

"Sorry, Kayeri, but I have my orders from Schneizel." Lloyd lowered his glasses, peering into Kayeri's eyes. "Now, you'll let my engineers go, and we'll both have a nice day, maybe some Earl. The Greys just sent me a fresh shipment."

"Fine." He sighed. Lloyd might be notoriously difficult to work with, but that didn't mean Kayeri lacked tools to make Lloyd more amicable to cooperation. Kayeri motioned for his two assistants. The four briefcases they carried almost caused them to stagger. Kayeri picked one up and popped it open. He handed the first packet to Lloyd.

"Under the authority given to me at 1530 hours today, presented by His Majesty Charles zi Britannia, 98th Emperor of Britannia, King of Albion and blah, blah, blah, I hereby confiscate and impound all assets of the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps. All control of the ASEEC is now and until the end of the investigation transferred from Prime Minister and Second Prince Schneizel to the OSIA11A, whose assets are to be investigated under the direction of Director Kayeri Brant III." He cocked a ready eyebrow at Lloyd. "That's me."

"It is to be stated, for the record of Area Eleven's Office of Special Intelligence, that Second Prince Schneizel is in no way responsible for the deployment of research assets in Area Eleven. The next in the line of command is Earl Lloyd Asplund, Chief Researcher of the Camelot Research and Development Division. I, as the head of the ASEEC, have full authority to arrest you under grounds of misappropriation of government funds, fraud, and high crimes against the Crown. Pending a full investigation, I do not want to do this. If you give me a reason, I will, Lloyd.

"To assist in the OSIA11A's investigation, Lloyd Asplund is to be fully compliant with the procedures necessary to determine the parties involved with the murder of Second Princess Cornelia li Britannia. Which are these." Kayeri smiled pleasantly motioned for the other briefcases, which were dropped in front of Lloyd's feet. Lloyd recoiled, the weight of each apparently dangerously high.

"You have until tomorrow at 1630 hours to finish these forms, if you wish to retain your assets for a week, before we reacquisition the Lancelot, the Camelot research corps, and the Engineering Envoys to the Crown's Criminal Investigative Services, where each and every component of the Corps will be dismantled and processed for evidence.

"Oh, and by the way, you can't touch the Lancelot. It's a crime scene."

Lloyd gaped. He was absolutely silent. Then, he picked up his jaw, and sputtered at Kayeri.

"But you're a paper pusher! Why are you even investigating this?"

Kayeri shrugged nonchalantly. "The mints don't pay for themselves."

"But the Lancelot is mine! You can't take my creation away from me!" Lloyd grabbed the front of Kayeri's suit, about to shake him.

Kayeri simply smiled pleasantly as twelve muzzles pointed themselves at Lloyd.

"Fill out the paperwork, and we'll have it processed. Until then, the Lancelot is evidence in my investigation."

Lloyd stared blankly at him, and then grabbed a briefcase. He tugged and pulled, dragging it on the concrete.

An agent went forward to lift another briefcase, but Kayeri shook his head.

"He got himself into this mess. He'll get himself out."

The thoughts spun in Kayeri's head as he watched Lloyd.

_Sometimes, I have to put my game face on._

_It's what he gets for live-testing a prototype knightmare without even clearing it through standard trials._

_I guess I did enjoy that a bit too much._

He walked away from the struggling scientist.

_It's about time we started this investigation._

"Sir?"

"Hm?" Another agent approached him.

"There's a Ms. Tohsaka whose credentials go beyond ours, sir. She's on the scene right now. We're trying to prevent her from going on the scene, but everything is clearing."

"Ahh, Tohsaka. Let me talk to her."

Kayeri moved quickly. He saw the small commotion, of several soldiers conversing somewhat heatedly with a black-haired girl in uniform.

"-I have to go to the Lancelot, Agent Barnes. Our pilot is still inside."

"I have my orders, Specialist Tohsaka. We're still waiting for your credentials to clear-"

"Which, Agent Barnes, should have been cleared five minutes ago. I want to speak to-"

Kayeri had skimmed the personnel report, and he thought he had imagined the name on the dossier.

"Rin?"

She reacted in surprise. "Director Brant? What are you doing here?"

"I'm in charge." He waved off the soldiers. "Men, she's alright. Back to positions. Good work." Kayeri turned back to Rin. "It's been a while. I never thought you would have joined the military."

"I'm a Specialist from the Association, so technically, I'm still a type of civilian. But right now, I'm working with Lloyd on research. Are you the new commanding officer, Brant?"

"The OSI is currently in charge of the investigation of Cornelia's murder. I'm the director of the Area Eleven branch, so effectively, yes."

"Yes, sir."

He grimaced. "Kayeri is fine. I'd like to think I'm still young."

"I'll call you Brant." She smirked. "I understand. I would feel weird too if someone called me sir, Director."

"Show some respect." But he smiled as well. "Has that priest copped it yet?"

Rin sighed. "Nope, Kirei's as healthy as ever."

"Pity."

Rin grinned. If Kayeri and Rin shared anything, it was their mutual dislike of Kirei Kotomine, the Church Representative in Rin's district of Fuyuki.

"So, what brings the caretaker of the nicest patch of magical real estate east of Jerusalem to this ghetto? Your pilot is still in there? Why hasn't he popped the hatch yet?"

Rin's face became serious. "The Lancelot was drained of energy after its confrontation. We don't know why yet."

"Your Servant can't get it open? I do take it that he's nearby."

"He is. But your men prevented us from reaching the Lancelot."

"Ah. Well, we'll get it open. I'll call over a mechanics crew-"

"That won't be necessary. I just need to go to the cockpit."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then let's go."

They travelled the narrow path set by the yellow tape, and began clambering over the kneeling form of the Lancelot.

After it had lost its power, it shifted into a programmed neutral position. It took the engineering corps thirty minutes to mobilize to the Lancelot's position, but they were prevented from working on it by the OSI.

Archer had made sure that there were no more enemies nearby, but he refused to leave Tohsaka's side.

At the cockpit, Kayeri watched Tohsaka key in the code as she pushed a jewel to the control panel. It sparked, and the hatch opened.

Kayeri was surprised to see a brown-haired, distinctly Japanese teen come out, squinting in the light.

"Tohsaka, you have a Japanese pilot?"

"Yes… This is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"You have no idea. I'll have to deal with my two favorite things—paperwork and Purists." he remarked as he popped another mint. He wasn't willing to go on a limb and accuse the hyperracist Purists of any foul doing, but there had to be a reason his mints periodically tested positive for Arsenic. He opened his comset. "Lock down the G1 Base. I don't want anyone in besides our guys."

The reply was one that worried him. "The Purist Faction is coming in ten minutes. We have Cornelia's Knight here, and he made a phone call. We'll need you to get them out of the scene, but we can gridlock them with a few roadblocks and a lot of missing papers."

"Do it. Tell them I'm sick. I'm dying of leukemia. My grandmother is in labor. Whatever keeps them off my back. Show them Pocahontas. Read them a story. Hell, read them Senator King's speeches, that'll get them excited."

"Yes, sir. Wish us luck. Here, there be idiotic dragons. We'll give them a lesson in intelligence."

"Mm." He closed the channel. Tohsaka watched with a wry grin.

"Leukemia? Really?"

Kayeri shrugged. "I like my Purists how I like my coffee."

Rin frowned. "You don't like coffee."

Kayeri nodded.

"That's the joke. Coffee aside, Tohsaka, I need a favor. Can you watch over your pilot while you both go for processing?"

Rin didn't like the idea. Her status as a magus would clear her from any "processing" that non-magus had to go through, but she saw the need to protect Suzaku.

"I'll do my best. Good luck with your investigation."

"Will do. Thanks."

* * *

><p>"What is a footprint doing in sheer concrete?"<p>

Kayeri stared at the distinct imprint. The concrete was shattered around it in a two-meter radius, but it was clear that someone had stood there.

Barnes took a closer look. "Looks like an adolescent's print, Director, though I can't tell the gender. I'd hazard around 10 to 15 years old."

"Kids these days. Steroids are one hell of a drug."

His agent, Charles "Chuck" Barnes, shook his head. "It's not like some kid on hormones stomped into the ground, Brant. There's no indication of kinetic impact. No, this was semi-static. Kinetic deformation would have created a seriously messed up print, and a load of sizable shards. It was like someone vibrated a foot into the ground. The concrete in the print itself is extremely fine."

Senior Agent George "Clifford" Noble raised a critical eyebrow. "But that doesn't make any sense at all. How would the foot vibrate? If my foot vibrated enough to make an imprint on the concrete, I wouldn't be standing there vibrating. I would have been on the ground, especially if I was a kid."

"Fine points both, but the print is still there. Unless some jokester used a vibrator and a steel boot for a jackhammer, I'm thinking the little fairies at the Association are up to something. Ideas?" Kayeri crouched, looking closer at the imprint.

"Well, given the reports of a blur attacking several knightmares, and this one as well, I would put my money on it," Noble replied.

Barnes and Noble were two of the small investigative unit that Kayeri worked with frequently for unusual cases. They knew about magecraft, though none of them were magus. Kayeri found magus woefully incompetent with technology, a staple of their work. The last magus he had managed to break his foot with a comset. "Non-magus" were far more preferable for this line of work. "Do we have anything else like this? Any sort of evidence for a steel adolescent?"

Noble nodded. "Several walls of the nearby buildings we canvassed had indentations. We'll have a few probies on their inspection, but I think they'll confirm our investigation."

Barnes chuckled. "Steel Adolescence … Sounds like the name of a band."

"Or a badass investigation, hm?" Noble could only hold his laugh for a second after putting "badass" and "investigation" together.

Kayeri rolled his eyes. "I'll shove this steel adolescent up your asses if you guys don't focus."

"Brant! You'll want to take a look at this knightmare!" Louise Borders shouted to her boss almost a block away.

"Dammit, Borders forgot her comset again." Kayeri ran over to the frame. "What is it, Borders?"

"We got some interesting cuts on this knightmare! Take a look!"

Kayeri pffted._ Ah. Borders is using her comset as a pair of headphones. That's against regs._

He pulled a trick he learned in PT and Comms. He twisted his comset so that the receiver was next to the mouthpiece, selected Louise's number, and called.

Feedback loop caused her to rip off her comset.

"Ow! What the hell, Brant!"

"That's what the hell, Director. Probie, I don't have a problem with you listening to music when you work. I do have a problem when you shout. Now, what's with the cuts?"

He climbed up to the back of the frame. A terrible, pristine gash was cleaved in the Lancelot's back.

"This is the second source of damage to this frame. It's very, very strange, Brant. The cut is absolutely perfect." Borders ran her finger along it. "It's absolutely smooth. I've never seen anything like it. There's no scarring, no shredding of material. The armor just separated."

Kayeri remained silent. He gritted his teeth.

"Something wrong, Brant?"

"I saw this a long time ago. Call Specialist Tohsaka over."

It only took two minutes. Tohsaka met Brant a few meters away from his team.

"What is it, Brant?"

"Do you know if any Masters were at my crime scene?"

"I suspected it, after the Lancelot fell. There were strange energy readings from the Lancelot's Factsphere. I thought it was prana interference from the Lancelot because of Private Kururugi."

"I'm betting a Servant took your knightmare down. You know, you're giving me a lot of paperwork, Tohsaka. The fact that there is a new, hostile Servant-"

"I _know_, Brant. We're doing our best to track him down."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Tohsaka. But right now, I'm going to take the hit. Britannia only has two Servants ready for the War. Guess what's going to hit the fan when the higher pay grade gets wind of this?"

She nodded understandingly. "Sorry, Brant. This is a bad situation for everyone."

"Mm. What class do you think this Servant is?"

Tohsaka appeared a little tense. "Saber. That cut is evidence enough."

"That's the most desirable class, isn't it. My day gets better and better."

"Yes. It is."

"We better find the master, then. I'll let you return to your work."

Rin began walking away, but she turned back to Kayeri. "Good luck, Brant."

* * *

><p>11 August 2017 a.t.b., 2020 hours<p>

Emiya Dojo, Fuyuki, Area 11

* * *

><p>"Fuji-nee, that's enough."<p>

"Shirou, I was about to win! This is unfair!" Taiga stomped her foot on the ground.

"Fuji-nee, you attacked Saber before she drew her shinai! Twice! And she beat you. She stopped because-" Shirou took a breath. He was mad. Really mad. But he was able to control himself. "Because she didn't want to hurt you."

Fuji-nee stared at Shirou, then at Saber.

Without a word, she ran out of the dojo.

"Fuji-nee …"

Shirou exhaled. He turned to Saber.

"Are you alright, Saber?"

"… We need to talk, Shirou."

It was a slow walk to the living room. Saber was in a solemn silence as she followed Shirou.

They sat down.

"Saber, what is it?"

"Shirou, I am worried about you."

"Why? I'm fine."

"… Are you, really? You have a life that is … pristine. All I have done is to bring you conflict and dishonor. As long as I am here, your friends will wonder about me. They will doubt you. I know you to be a man of honor, and I will not deprive you of your reputation, nor your life here. I know that this War will continue to draw us into conflict, and it will draw your friends in as well. If you wish for me to leave, I will not hold it against you."

"I won't do that, Saber. I promised that I would protect you. You saved my life, but that's not the only reason why I'm staying in this. I'm willing to do this because you're my friend. If you need my help, I'll do what I can."

"But you have all you want already. You had said it yourself. You do not possess any reason to be a part in my struggle. You would risk-"

"You're my friend, and you're someone worth protecting. That's reason enough."

Saber looked straight at Shirou, with an impenetrable expression on her face.

She shifted, to look at the doorway.

Taiga was standing in the entrance.

"Shirou."

Fuji-nee looked strange. There was a faraway expression on her face. She closed her eyes, and then smiled.

"… So you finally found someone you like, someone you'd defend. I guess it's about time. I just didn't think it would come so soon, Shirou." She wiped her eyes.

"She did beat me. I guess she's worthy for you. I was worried you were doing this too fast, but I guess I was wrong. Have fun tonight."

She walked to the exit. Taiga gave some last advice before leaving. "Don't stay up too late. And please … be responsible, okay?"

Shirou couldn't talk. He was stunned.

Saber spoke. "Do you see now? Are you sure about this?"

"I …" He nodded. "I am."

"Then … Understand that I am grateful, Shirou, for welcoming me into your life. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Shirou checked the time. It was almost 9.

"I'll show you the guest bedroom-" He caught the severe look Saber placed on him. "I did promise you that you could stay in my room, didn't I?"

"That you did." She smiled at the irony. "If Taiga saw us, her fears would not be unfounded."

"That's not funny at all. You can defend yourself. Fuji-nee would eat me like a tiger." Shirou frowned. "That reminds me. What happened in the dojo? Your voice, and your arms … They didn't seem to be yours. Are you hurt at all?"

The response was hesitant, but honest. "I am. My arms do not bear a physical wound, but I do not think my injuries will heal easily."

"… I'll see what I can do."

They entered the master bedroom. A single futon laid on the wooden floor, the room spartan and unadorned.

"You can sit on my futon for now. I'll take out the other one, then I'll get the medicine-"

"… Shirou, I want to tell you about … myself. About my existence as a Servant."

Shirou sat down on his futon, next to a kneeling Saber. He looked at her expectantly.

She inhaled deeply, then sighed. "As a participant of the Grail War, I am given an existence based on the history of my actions, and the legend held for me by the world. When I sustain a wound, I am usually able to recover with the consumption of prana. Servants arrive in this world with an amount of prana, but they require their masters to provide prana to them.

"However, I am not receiving any from you. The spiritual connection we should share is not present. Are you capable of doing this?"

"Ah, no, Saber. I don't know much magecraft at all. I'm sorry."

"I expected this, but it is not catastrophic. It is not your fault. I believe that my summoning contained some error, and the line that should connect us was not formed. We will have to fight with a strategy in mind.

"Wait, so if … if I can't replace your magical energy, you'll-"

"I would not be able to stay in this world. My restoration is a regeneration magic, so every wound I take will reduce the time I remain here. I have already consumed five mature magi's worth of prana."

Sabe drew in a deep breath. "I sustained a blow from that white giant, one that caused me grievous harm. I-" _I gave up myself in a moment of weakness._

The moment flashed in front of her eyes. She was consumed by the sheer might of her alternate, leviathan legend. That darkness within her … She had negotiated its release into her body. It channeled into the part of her existence it had the greatest affinity with. It devoured her holy sword, conquered her gauntlets.

The corruption, a deep ichor seeped into her arms, her hands, the pride of her legend and her alternate's.

Even now, she was waging a war for control of her arms against the darkness.

She was host to the greatest evil Britannia ever held.

_She defended Shirou with my arms._

"Shirou, how much do you trust me?"

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. "I'd trust you with my life. You already proved that to me."

"Then take me for my word when I say that there is something I must handle alone. I can take care of it, but it was the reason behind my assault on Taiga."

"… Does it have to do with that black sword you had?"

"So you saw that … Yes, it does. And it is the reason why my arms are not recovering."

An honest and concerned expression was on Shirou's face. His words surprised her. "May I- May I see them?"

There was a moment of indecision, before Saber nodded, and rolled up the sleeves of her button-down shirt.

They were streaked with the imprints of red lines, remnants of rivulets that had flooded the insides of her guantlets.

He took her arms in his hands. She took an involuntary breath of air.

The pain spiked, then vanished. It was almost as if cool water was running over her hands.

_This is a cruel trick, Vortigern._

There was no reply, except for an almost inaudible chuckle in her mind.

"Did that hurt?"

"No." She looked away, aware of the social impropriety. "The pain left for a moment."

Shirou was uncertain, and somewhat embarrassed. "Saber, my prana … I don't know how to help you with that, not yet. But if I can help you with your pain, would you- will you let me?"

Saber continued to look away, attempting to communicate with the shared legend within her. There was no reply for her inquiries. She nodded.

A flush crept up Shirou's cheeks. He had half-expected Saber to pull away. He intended to help, but something like this?

_I made a promise._

_I have been given a sword I do not deserve._

He gently applied pressure with his fingertips along the smooth skin of Saber's forearms.

Each time Shirou kneaded down on her arms, the heat of the pain was chased away, replaced by cold relief. She closed her eyes, enjoying the respite.

His hands travelled down to hers, and she tried to open her fists. She couldn't do it.

He stopped pressing, and the pain rammed into her arms, causing her to clench her jaw.

**_This is what you deserve for despising me, Tyrant. Enjoy._**

She felt him touch her fingers gently, reluctantly.

He guided the paths of her fingers, curling them outward.

The echoes of the voice faded away as he clasped her hands, then began pressing on the inflamed muscles.

This must be how a rock feels against the sea.

The beating of the waves stopped. She opened her eyes.

"Saber."

A bright world greeted her, a pair of arms grasped by hands, over a short skirt.

Her arms, his hands, her skirt.

Her arms were gloriously cool.

"You awake? It's been twenty minutes."

Saber jerked her head up to meet Shirou's eyes. He went red instantly, looking away and coughing.

"Twenty minutes." She stated this matter-of-factly.

"Uh, well, yeah."

She knew that she was supposed to be mortified, but she only felt gratitude.

"T-thank you, Shirou."

_… I stuttered?_

Instantly, a shade of red colored Saber's face. So much for gratitude.

"Ah, erm, do you need anything else?"

"Just a change of clothes, and a bath."

"There're clothes in the closet. I- don't have any girl's clothes, but you can wear mine, if it's alright with you."

"That's fine, Shirou."

"I'll let you change, then."

* * *

><p>Shirou moved somewhat hurriedly out of the room. He didn't want a repeat of the boy's dorm in Ashford.<p>

He began pacing around, scolding himself.

_What were you doing? You're a kid. She's not here for you, she's here for a war._

Lelouch's voice popped into his head.

_"Come on, admit it. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed that someone everyone thought was your girlfriend let you hold her, caress her, take her-"_

_Shut up._

_"Well, at least you didn't violate her, hm? Milly would say you're a hot blooded young man, and I don't think Saber would protest. Too much."_

_I didn't even think about that before you brought it up!_

_"Sure."_

_Dammit, Lelouch._

_"I wonder what it says about you, that you're having an imaginary conversation in your head with your best friend about a girl, when you could be peeping on her. Or even better, in the room with her."_

_I- What-_

_"Well, you should check up on her. It's been five minutes. Maybe she fell asleep?"_

_… That's the first thing you've said that makes sense._

He knocked on the door. "Saber?"

There was no response.

He looked around the door.

Saber was slipping on one of his trademark blue armed, white centered shirts over her head.

A bare back presented itself to him, strands of blonde hair interrupting the otherwise perfect, smooth, soft length from the shoulders down to the base of the spine.

It was like someone took golden liquid and textured it with gold dust, and placed it down on the elegant curves of Saber's soft back-

Shirou immediately turned and slid the door shut.

He breathed heavily. Damnit, Lelouch. He would need a cold shower.

What was this, some sort of anime?

The door opened.

"Shirou?"

A girl, barely anywhere near 14, stood in front of Shirou. Her hair was tied down in a ponytail, and she wore his standard casual shirt and sweatpants. The lengths of the arms and legs were too long for her limbs, so they made her look absolutely petite.

"I believe I already told you this, but … Thank you, Shirou."

"You look …" The words just came out of Shirou's mouth.

"Hm? I look?"

Lelouch's voice reappeared in Shirou's head._ "What are you doing? You said that-!"_

_Shut up … Might as well._

"You look nice, Saber."

That was the first time anyone had told her that.

Everything about her expression of happiness was light and subtle, but Shirou could tell that Saber enjoyed the impulsive, sincere compliment.

"… I'm going to change, Saber."

* * *

><p>The baths were without incident, thank goodness.<p>

He had finished before Saber was, and entered his futon, the one for Saber an appropriate distance away.

He made sure to put on a shirt that was different from the one Saber was wearing.

She entered when he had closed his eyes.

She seemed somewhat subdued, serene.

_I guess I did make her happy._

_I wish I could have been more … cool about it._

_Milly's right, I am hot headed._

Out of the corner of his half-closed eyes, he saw her standing over him.

She smiled.

She closed the lights, and he could hear her sneaking into the futon he had set up.

_This isn't so bad._

The day was over, and exhaustion closed his eyes.

* * *

><p>Kayeri sighed. Good luck issued ten hours ago didn't help much. What he would give to climb into his bed, or even one of those cheap futons the Japanese insisted on using for hotels. And staying up until 3AM was no fun whatsoever.<p>

Still, his men actually drove off the Purist faction until tomorrow. Knightmares and paperwork went hand in hand for effective negotiation tools.

Odds were, though, they were waiting for the Glaston Knights for political clout. He would handle it later. He didn't have much to worry about from them.

They had actually set up a roadblock around the Purist faction's representatives. They couldn't get out without proper credentials. Those credentials were sent at 6PM via faxing.

Guess the terrorists must have known about that, ECM started acting up.

By the time they were able to get a runner out to the convoy, it was 9PM.

The look on Jeremiah's face would be framed on his wall for at least three generations.

He entered the tech van. "We got anything from shop cameras?"

"Not really. That blur is seen from shops 2 and 3, but not 4. At 4, we have something very, very interesting. Shop 1's tape is corrupted, though there's a corroboration with 4. We're still waiting for camera footage along the street that our perp ran along."

"Perp? We have someone?"

"Yes, sir. The resolution is terrible on 4, but this is what we have."

The tape ran. A series of thirteen small figures ran by, their faces grainy, but evidently children. They looked like they were fleeing something. As the last one passed, he fell.

A tall figure stood over the child, with a rifle.

He leaned down, for a moment, then shouldered his rifle.

Kayeri felt dread at the bottom of his stomach.

But his fears didn't come true. The figure slung the rifle on his back, and lifted the child up.

His face passed the camera in full.

"Pause it."

Kayeri studied the face. His hair was short, somewhat messy. The color could be red. His eyes had an honest look about him.

He looked Japanese. But he was wearing a school uniform.

"What uniform is that?"

"Ashford Academy."

"Run it through."

"I did, we got a hit."

Kayeri grabbed the dossier proffered to him.

"Shirou Emiya."

* * *

><p><span>Footnotes and some Notes (for Aspect of Normalcy):<span>

At the start of F/SN, Shirou is in Year 2 of his high school, Homurahara School, which translates to junior year in American Schools, and Year 12, lower sixth in the British (and thus Britannian) system. It would also be a bit weird making Shirou "18" as in F/SN. Honestly, Type-Moon's age thing is understood to be purely for preventing the Decency Police of Japan from eating their game.

[1] Matthew 6:33, "But seek first His kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (NIV). I have my theories on Saber's legend, and I'm supposing that her distinctly Christian legend, even in a "pagan" Britannian world, exists and has some basis in her true, historical life. I will only answer questions about this in PMs, no need for a flame war on this fic.

A shinai is the introductory training weapon used in kendo.

For those of you wondering what in Sam Hill is an intelligence agency doing investigating a murder, I say this. Britannia has no mention of an internal, national investigative service, which would normally investigate the death of a VIP. Furthermore, this is one of Britannia's Areas, and that gets into a mess if an international agency would be qualified to investigate an overseas death. I only have a rudimentary knowledge of this, so leave a comment in a review if there's a problem. Also, the OSI is implied to be Britannia's only intelligence agency, and thus I presented this badass mess of bureaucracy. Yes, I know that directors usually do not go on-site for investigations. But Kayeri is just that badass.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> I want to hear what your favorite part of this chapter was, first and foremost. That's all I ask, what you want to see more of. And if the entire chapter tickled your fancy, then say so. I will ask that you review separately for this chapter and the F/ZE pilot. Thanks.

I was nervous about including those bits of fanservice at the end, but they are based on … personal experiences. Hell, almost all of the romance bits in this are based on personal experience. I tried basing some off of the anime, but honestly, they felt a bit unnatural. I'm no expert on romance, but I've certainly had enough experiences to understand how realistic a moment can be.

This was the most difficult chapter I've ever had to write, hands down. The sheer amount of slice of life, romance, and plot I tried to mix together originally would have caused me to give up on this entirely. Fortunately, good sense won out. Sakura and Nina will get their moment in the spotlight sometime, but not yet. Some characters may be OOC, but … well, it's inevitable. I'm no master of writing. I'm a simple engineer building a world based on two structures.

Currently, I'm playing Fate/stay night. Yes, the actual visual novel. I've noticed that quite a few fics around (especially the neighboring ones) tend to use wiki-specific material, like a great big infodump. I'm trying to up the game. I've decided that I'll be using the original source material to write, and none of the anime stuff. The anime has its merits, but I believe that a work, based on another, must rely on the original basis to be of any worth. Don't get me wrong, the fics based on the wiki and/or the anime are pretty good. I'm not looking for just good. Time and life permitting, I want people to walk away from this saying "Wow." I pray that I've been doing that.

What this means, however, is that updates will be few and far between as I play through F/SN. I have engineering finals and research to do, and my college is one that has to do with ivy vines. And a league. Yep, being an engineer is suffering.

My eternal thanks to Mr. Sparkles, who beta'd the crap out of this, and made it awesome. Kayeri Brant III is his OC. Stay tuned for Fate/Zero Eos, and more of the adventures of the wisecracking bureaucratic badass, Brant. Sparkles made significant changes to the dialogue for Brant, so big props to him.

Fate/Zero Eos. Right. One big thing. It is NOT EROS. "Zero Love" is something I have for poor grammar. We chose Zero Eos because 1. It sounds cool. 2. It means Zero Dawn, and that has some special significance to the plot. Well, not really. You'll find out.

I'll also be designing knightmares with AutoCAD and ProE. This means that there will be blueprints and 3D models as side materials. Don't worry, it's not going to impede writing. It's part of studying for finals.

I'll only be replying to a few reviews. My apologies to anyone who feels left out. I will only answer F/NA relevant questions, you'll have to wait for F/ZE to be released for those questions to be answered.

**Angry Santo:** Right, Shirou has Avalon within. That's the only way he's able to summon Saber (well, and the summoning circle in the Emiya Residence, which is in [censored for F/NA spoilers] in F/NA. His magecraft is the same right now, but [spoiler spoiler spoiler]. [spoiler spoiler] is [spoiler spoiler]. Spoiler. Archer's gun, if you look back and do some research on the wiki, has some interesting connections.

Did you play the VN? I think only people who have played the VN know about the significance of Nine Lives. Though it is on the wiki. If so, mad props, I look forward to hearing more from you. If not, I still look forward to hearing from you, and I recommend playing F/SN. Legally, of course.

**Aiur: **No, Mr. Sparkles and I are not the same person. We've known each other for a few years shy of two decades, and we've worked together on quite a few projects. He also sends his thanks for catching the time mistake. As to the Glasgow, we're still working on it, but I say that the Glasgow shows up so early because of Magus Association cooperation in the development of the knightmare. Ahem, golems.

**Vegeta the 3rd:** I am very happy that you're happy. Though you don't have any questions.

Please, read and review. KEEP REVIEWS FOCUSED ON THE CHAPTER THAT YOU ARE REVIEWING. REVIEW SEPARATELY FOR EACH CHAPTER THAT YOU WISH TO REVIEW. I apologize for the rudeness, but this is simply to keep track of who likes what.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.

The next update will most likely come in May, marking the anniversary of this massive project.

Heavy Valor signing out for a while. I wish you the best.


	16. A Knight's Interlude

**AN:** FATE ZERO EOS IS OUT. IT IS CURRENTLY IN THE F/SN AND CG CROSSOVERS SECTION WITH FOUR CHAPTERS OUT. PLEASE READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF F/ZE TO BETTER UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON. Here:

http:/ www. /s/7996190/1/Fate_Zero_Eos

Let's hear it … for MR. SPARKLES. *applause*

And now, for a short bit of Saber and Shirou interactions. I apologize for the short chapter, final exams are near.

**THIS CHAPTER IS CURRENTLY BEING EDITED. GAAAHHHH FINALS.**

Chapter 9.1: A Knight's Interlude

11 August 2017 a.t.b., 2315 hours

…

* * *

><p>I'm standing in a fallen field.<p>

Fallen … That may be putting it a little too harshly.

It's nowhere near a beautiful field. It isn't the sea of green it should be.

There is a strange feeling on this field.

I see that it is green, but I feel that it isn't.

And … there's something strange in my hand.

I bring it up.

It's half of a sword, the remains of a tool.

In any other place, I would have immediately thrown it aside. It would have been rubbish anywhere else, useless.

But here, it fits.

It turns easily in my hands, its craftsmanship superb, even in its broken form.

There isn't any ornamentation. It gleams gently. It's a large hilt, but-

Hm. If anything, this was a sword of peace. It has an edge, but it was made to protect.

The sword turns again in my hands, and … How do I put it?

The person called Emiya Shirou- no, Shirou Emiya is fascinated with this broken tool.

I don't know why I think this.

I don't know how I know this sword.

Irresistibly, I walk forward. The top of the hill is a short distance away, and this strange field may show something different from another view.

But I'm disappointed.

If anything, it's just like the old field in Fuyuki.

There's nothing worth looking at here. Even the quiet isn't worth much.

A missing movement catches my eye. The grass moves, but there's a length of ground where it doesn't, right in front of me. There's a scar in the ground. That's what it is.

The hilt turns in my hands again. This sword deserves a resting place.

Strangely, the sword fits perfectly into the scar. It slides smoothly-

A connect. I don't know what to make of-

It's a match, a meeting of the two halves.

The sword is complete.

Immediately-

"Hkkk-!"

A cold warmth plunges into my stomach.

This Sword of Peace …

How brutal.

No, it's fitting. The wielder of this Sword was as brutal as the spear that killed him.

It was the Sword that was abused, broken when its wielder fell.

I find myself staring up at the sky.

Since when was it nighttime?

I prop myself up with my arms.

There's yet another missing patch of grass.

It isn't as wide as the one the Sword of Peace occupies.

It's one from a simple, vertical puncture into the dirt.

I lay back down, closing my eyes.

Of course, the wielder of the Sword of Peace drew blood. His enemy rested on his sword.

His enemy would have been resting, and then …

His enemy would be looking down at him.

That's why …

That's why there's someone standing over me right now.

The oppressive eminence, that's what Lelouch would call it. It's directly over me.

I open my eyes.

"Hello, Shirou."

* * *

><p>"Saber?"<p>

I open my eyes, and I see-

Saber's face.

But it was a strikingly beautiful face, paler than normal, with similarly lighter hair.

Her eyes, they were no long pools of verdant.

They were of the tranquil gaze of a predator.

Gleaming depths of gold, illuminant even in the night.

In this instant, I am afraid.

She's beautiful, but it's like the story about how the rabbit loved the lion.

The rabbit was captured by the lion's majesty, and it was eaten.

Here, it's as simple as that. I will be destroyed if I'm not careful. Or …

Perhaps I've already been destroyed, and this predator is simply waiting for me to realize it.

If the Saber I know is so able in defending me, what is this Saber capable of?

I sit up, and I'm about to turn around-

She sits next to me, her black dress folding about her small frame as she brings her knees close.

She looks at me.

"I hope you have been enjoying my vision, Shirou."

… I don't know what to say. She seems harmless enough now. To tell the truth, I wasn't expecting her to evoke the same impression I had when I first met Saber.

She looks so small. I almost forget my wariness.

"Where are we?"

"A battlefield. My home."

Does she mean that this battlefield is over her home, or that her home is the battlefield? "Saber, what do you mean?"

She sighs. "My legend was born on this field. Look."

I follow her gaze.

No longer is the field a sea of grass.

It is a field of blades, a dead ground.

There are no cries of the wounded. There is no life here.

Only swords and spears embedded in earth, armor, and flesh.

Oddly, the air is still and untouched by death.

Saber gets up, and begins walking into the field.

"Follow me, Shirou."

* * *

><p>I stand in the center of the field, next to this alternate Saber.<p>

I see the Saber I know and a red knight talking.

"… Saber, what's going on?"

"Just watch."

I catch Saber's voice. It's unfamiliar, emotionless.

" -You who are pursuing this war, for your own personal grievances against me?"

"… Personal grievances?"

A tremor shook the knight. It was as if the crimson knight had lost all composure, and only his armor was holding it in.

Slowly, he pulled the helmet off.

How-?

Underneath was Saber's face.

It was older, it was crueler.

The fury set in his eyes was completely different from Saber's expressionless face.

"Personal grievances? Perhaps I have some personal stake in this, King, but I was not the man who took the Armies over the channel in order against a single man. I was not the one started the grudge whom your own foster brother and so many others died for, far away from home. I am not the one who would scorn that which came from his flesh and blood—"

He stopped midrant.

In response to his tirade, Saber simply looked at him with her emotionless eyes. Saber didn't say anything.

There wasn't anything in those eyes.

**_You were never worthy of even that emotionless gaze. You should have been on your knees, begging your king for forgiveness, worshipping the very ground she stood on._**

The vision faded, replaced by those blades.

* * *

><p>"Saber."<p>

The alternate Saber looks at me curiously.

"Was that you?"

She nods. She continues walking.

Fallen swords line the path that we take.

The quiet figure in front of me …

Even though I'm wary of her, I can't help but pity her.

I feel like she's someone familiar, but someone completely different. I shouldn't be so free with my sympathy, but …

Anyone would sympathize with someone who walked this path.

I pick up a sword.

_Saber swept towards the armored knight, a red tunic enshrouding his metal chestplate. It became a deeper shade of red, the knight collapsing, his helmet falling and the blood pouring from the top of his neckpiece as he fell-_

"You should not touch those swords, Shirou."

I unclench my hands, Saber's gold regard on me.

"Have you, Saber?"

"Every night. Every waking moment."

I feel helpless. She's been through so much.

"They- they were my knights. My knights chose to fight against me. I-"

She stops, turns around and continues walking.

* * *

><p>The crimson knight lay upon the ground, the color from his armor bleeding into the earth.<p>

The Sword of Peace was in two.

The King looked upon the fallen field with an unreadable expression.

Here was the full fighting force of a country, fallen by its own hands.

Just another one of the many casualties she had caused.

This King knew her time had come. This wound was not merely mortal, it was fatal.

And there would be no one left to resist the invaders

The field was lost.

The kingdom was lost.

And it was all her doing.

"… Your Highness!"

She looked up at the knight in blue and silver next to her. Her last remaining knight, tired but unbowed, held out a shaking hand.

"Your Highness, are you alright?"

The King looked up at him. The two had been friends on that day, both knights in training, that day when she became her kingdom's chosen heir. Since that day, her most loyal knight's hair had greyed from a thousand battles. Scarred and haggard, he was yet another victim of her misrule.

The King smiled sadly.

"Yes … just a little tired."

* * *

><p>Saber's eyes closed.<p>

**_… My King …_**

I'm at a loss. I try to speak. "Saber …"

"Do you know how much I despise that name, Shirou?"

A vicious undertone in that voice appears. It obliterates those two tender words spoken in complete supplication to the King.

"I didn't, Sa- I mean … Um, I don't know what to call you, then."

And she smiles. It widens, until-

The predator bares her fangs.

"I am not Saber, Shirou. I told you, my legend was born on this field. I am the embodiment of my kingdom's will to power. I have walked beside the realization of my kingdom's dreams."

She walks forward.

**_A grim hellishness reserved for those willing to grasp it, to embrace it in their arms and hearts, to be consumed by the delights of war. A mask for the solemn hedonism._**

**_What a blessing. To march on the flesh of the enemy, to sing of the power in your hands. To crush those who were unworthy. To lay claim to your Kingdom, on that mountain._**

**_On My Mountain._**

Suddenly, a cold pressure is on my neck.

"-!"

My feet are no longer on the ground.

"Saber, why-"

"Do not _presume_ to remind me of my failures. Am I not _worthy _of becoming chosen for this War? Tell me this, _Master._"

I gag. The cold hand isn't flesh. It's steel.

"Tell me. Tell me of every man that esteemed me.

Tell me of my might, of all that I have given to my kingdom.

Tell me of every knight I have slain for the survival of my kingdom."

Her grip tightens.

"Tell me of the worth I have next to a knight such as you.

You, the defender of the people. Tell me."

I can't speak. The expression on Saber's face intensifies.

A roar engulfs me.

"Tell me, '_heir'_! Tell me what I could have done to deserve your pitiful respect! Tell me why I am not a participant in this War! Tell me why **_she_ **is here undoing the damage **_you_** wrought on my kingdom!

TELL ME OF MY WORTH!"

She's mad. That terrible thought strikes me, as she chokes me.

She is a mad king.

But as I think this, she calms.

Imperious, she speaks.

_**"Crimson Knight, Tell me.**_

_**TELL ME OF ALL THAT I HAVE DONE. CONDEMN MY EXISTENCE, AND I WILL GIVE YOU MY ANSWER.**_"

I can't breathe. My hands clasp at the gauntlet at my throat. The ebony surface of that armor-

"Let me demonstrate my worth. **_Begone._**"

* * *

><p>The moment before my neck snapped, I realize something about Saber's expression.<p>

Though her expression was one of a predator, her eyes were silent. They didn't show any passion behind the action.

It was just like the cold regard Saber had for that crimson knight.

She saw someone else, when she was killing me.

It was a mask.

She didn't want to send me back to-

* * *

><p>...<p>

**AN:** So, Fate Zero Eos is out. It's been out for a week.

And it.

Is.

EPIC.

Yeah, this is a shameless plug for F/ZE. But hey, if you're itching for more F/NA action, but you hate the really, really slow updates, you just have to look at F/ZE. It'll be updating weekly for the next month and some. So please, dive into yet another world, and see where it all began for Fate Nightmare Apatheia. So far, there are four chapter/prologues, and a lot more where that came from. Major credits to Mr. Sparkles for lending me some materials to base this chapter on.

Now, all I can ask you is to review, and to read the companion fic to F/NA. If you've liked F/NA so far, then I guarantee you that F/ZE will not disappoint.

For reviews … I'd like to hear what you thought of the first-person style of writing. What I'd like to hear from you guys is commentary on the interactions, the flow of the writing, the perspective, and the ideas presented in this alternate Saber. I've been (slowly) playing f/sn, and I hope the little experiment went well. I apologize for the short chapter (and the lack of replies to reviews). Finals are near, and I'm extremely busy. I've been swamped with planning, housing, and academics. You may expect a new chapter by late May/early June, full of replies to reviews, plot full of love or action. Until then …

Enjoy Fate Zero Eos.

Hail to the upcoming anniversary of Fate Nightmare Apatheia.

HeavyValor.


	17. Interlude 1: Sleepless: Part 1

… I'm back. I have no excuses. I've been busy this summer, but let this chapter be a promise of better things to come.

* * *

><p><span>Interlude 1:<span> Sleepless: Part 1

12 August 2017 a.t.b., 0135 hours

Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>C:\C …<p>

C:\C\PROXY …

Connecting …

C:\C\PROXY\BZG-04A2 …

C:\C\PROXY\BZG-04A2 ls filter

OSIA11A

Music

C:\C\PROXY\BZG-04A2 cd OSIA11A

C:\C\PROXY\BZG-04A2\OSIA11A …

* * *

><p>Suzaku Kururugi poured a bottle of water over his head.<p>

"It's wet …"

The air he took in tasted fresh. Even after ten hours from being trapped in the Lancelot's cockpit, Suzaku appreciated the sensations of being alive.

The rivulets trickled over his eyes, and he closed them-

_"Tohsaka! The blur is on the shields! My energy levels are going down!"_

_"Pull back! Lloyd has a-"_

_…_

_"The sword. Why's half of it gone?"_

_…_

_I couldn't see that blur anymore. I thought I had won._

_And then the lights went out._

The cool droplets pattered down his hair.

Nobody had ever told him what happened. Tohsaka-sensei had run him out of the cockpit, waited with him as has was processed, and then left him.

He had lost track of the time he spent in the room, just as he had lost track when he was staring at the Lancelot's hatch.

He had heard that Princess Cornelia died, that she died here in Area Eleven.

And he couldn't help but wonder:

_Was it my fault?_

_Was that blur responsible?_

_Did I fail to stop it?_

"Private Suzaku Kururugi."

He turned to the hiss of the closing door. "Specialist Tohsaka."

Tohsaka was looking at him with a strange expression.

"Are you alright, Tohsaka-sensei?"

"I should be the one asking you that, Kururugi."

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. She looked like she was going to say something, but instead, a closed smile made its way on her face. "If you say so."

She sat next to him. Her next words surprised Suzaku. "Private Kururugi, tell me why you're fine."

"I- I just am, Tohsaka-"

"That's an order."

The catlike smile turned into a smirk. Her hand stole to her hip, and Suzaku collided with an unexpected impression, that-

_Tohsaka-sensei is like a two-faced oni. I just saw her other face._

He hesitated. "I don't know what you mean."

Rin closed her eyes and sighed. "Private Kururugi, you just piloted a knightmare for the first time, barely escaped an opponent that would have destroyed you, and now you're recovering after being trapped in a pitch-black cockpit for two hours. If you're fine, then I'd like to know why."

Suzaku honestly didn't know what to say. This wasn't normal for Tohsaka. Most of their interactions for the past day involved criticisms of his piloting, light sarcasm dropped about all of his simulations. To be honest, she puzzled him. She was the picture of the perfect officer with anyone of official rank. But with him, she was informal.

Well, informal wasn't the word for it. He could tell that in any other situation, a guy would be absolutely terrified of her. But here, she seemed … concerned.

"I stopped the fighting. I helped in stopping that thing. The Japanese- the Elevens aren't going to be able to use that weapon again." _The faster I stop the fighting, the faster I can stop lives from being taken._

_I had hit it. I stopped it, and then I continued on with the next enemy._

"That doesn't sound like you're fine."

He spun around, meeting Rin's gaze.

Her expression was no longer familiar. Her smile, her standard of perfect temperament, had disappeared. In its place was a worried look in her eyes, a thoughtful knuckle brought up to her mouth.

"Kururugi, weren't you afraid?"

That was an easier question. "No, I-"

"Even when that opponent brought you down?"

Suzaku was again puzzled. "I thought that was my energy fillers depleting."

"No, Kururugi. Your opponent attacked you from behind when you engaged that terrorist. It drained your energy fillers."

"-. Then …" His nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. "Then that thing is still out there?"

"Yes." Rin watched Suzaku's response, trying to maintain her dispassionate expression. _I guess this is the consequence of trying to shield him from the judgment of the Purists. It would have been better to let him know immediately afterwards. _

_A Tohsaka will aspire to the best of her position. That isn't just for respect, but for the very nature of being the best._

_In both of these wars, being the best will let me win._

_But here, I failed my subordinate- No, Kururugi-kun. I failed him by seeing him just as a subordinate._

She watched him as his hands stopped trembling.

"Tohsaka-sensei, I'd like to pursue that enemy as soon as the Lancelot is ready."

She remained silent.

Now, it was Suzaku's turn to watch Rin. "You don't think I should do it?"

"It's not that I don't approve. But what you are doing is putting extra weight on your mind. If you keep this up, you'll be unable to move."

She ran her hand through one of her tails. "It's useless to consider that enemy as a target to be defeated. The best you can do is delay it."

"I know that it may be difficult, but I can do it-"

"Do what, Kururugi?"

"I-"

"Kill it?"

Suzaku remained silent.

_I wanted to._

"I guess I was trying to, but I was hoping that I wouldn't."

"That's the problem. You think of it as something human."

Suzaku started in surprise. "Then I can destroy it? It's a machine?"

"Don't be so enthusiastic. If you did so, you'd still be taking a life."

"What- So … it's an animal?"

For a moment, Tohsaka just stared at him. Slowly, her palm crept upwards until it was over her face. "Ugh."

_Well, I shouldn't be surprised that Kururugi wouldn't understand._

"Kururugi, what do you know about magecraft?"

_…_

_What?_

"Magecraft? Like magic?"

* * *

><p>C:\C\BlackC\08122017 …<p>

mkdir Suzaku_Kururgi

mkdir Lancelot

cd Rin_Tohsaka

emacs Kururugi_what_do_you_know_about_magecraft

…

_Magecraft?_

…

emacs Magecraft_like_magic

search Magecraft

no results found

* * *

><p>She frowned.<p>

_He forgot? It was a long time ago, but I didn't think it was something anyone could easily forget._

"Close enough. Magecraft is the realization of a person's energy into a transformation of the world. Of course, there are different schools of thought, but essentially magecraft does what can be found 'normally' by science, just in different terms of time and resources. However, what you fought in the Lancelot was a being derived from magic." Rin nodded understandingly as Suzaku's expression turned into one of bewilderment.

"Uh, what's the difference?"

"What do you think?"

More and more, Suzaku had no idea why Tohsaka was talking about magic and magecraft and transformations. _Maybe this is some sort of psychological test. I bet it's something for soldiers after coming out of battle. _"Well, you referred to people when you said magecraft … So is magic better than what humans can do?"

"That's right. Now, how should I put it …" Rin smiled and raised an instructing finger in the air. "I'll spare you the intricacies, but I'll tell you what you need to know. Magecraft is like chemistry, where you perform an action from the spiritual and expend energy for a realistic reaction. For certain humans, the agents of this reaction are magic circuits, like a battery that supplies energy for a phone. What a magus does with these circuits can be defined as mystic occurrences. Magic is like sakuradite atomics – it's not supposed to exist by any natural means, but it still does, defying logic or any manmade convention. It's simply a name for what defies reality."

"So that thing I fought, that was magic?"

"Exactly. I'm glad you caught on so quickly. I didn't realize it myself, but your opponent was a Serv-" She coughed. "I'm sorry, a spirit. You know it's not something that can be constrained to reality. It destroyed your MVS- your sword- and completely drained your energy fillers. And it was impossible to see. That's beyond any science that Lloyd could come up with."

"It's beyond reality? Can it be defeated?" Concern and confusion swept across Suzaku's features. "How do you know all of this, Tohsaka-sensei? Are you a magus?"

"I am." She was happy, her attitude one of a haughty teacher instructing a student. The teacher being the absolute authority on the subject, and the student a wide-eyed, eager-to-learn pupil who hung on her every word.

"I am the caretaker of Fuyuki, and the heir of the Tohsaka house. If the Japanese have magic on their side, it's only fair that Britannia has magic as well, right?" She smiled again. "Don't worry. I'll figure something out."

Suzaku felt like a fish out of water. Maybe Tohsaka was tired, but she wasn't exactly being clear. "Well, Tohsaka-sensei … I don't think I understand anything you're saying."

Even after only a day, Suzaku knew that Rin was a perfectionist. Her professional attitude and immaculate poise were maintained beyond any officer's own.

But in the aftermath, even the perfectionist fell to the grasp of reality.

One of her twin-tails was slightly tangled, being the one that she didn't regularly run her hand through.

There was a light dust on her uniform, the result of running through a battlefield to free him from the clutches of absolute darkness, in the Lancelot.

The weariness in her eyes-

He ruffled his hair a bit sheepishly. "I think you need some rest. It's alright if you're worried, but don't let it get to your head, alright?"

_Now that I think about it, she's been up longer than I have._

_She's not in a normal state of mind. I didn't expect it, but I guess even Tohsaka-sensei likes to pretend once in a while. That's great, but if her superiors hear her like this-_

"W-What? Now, just what are-" Rin tried to comprehend what Suzaku was saying.

She felt a cool hand on her forehead.

"Hmm. You're running a temperature, Tohsaka-sensei."

"…" Rin couldn't say anything. Her face warmed at the abrupt touch, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Hey, it's alright if you're insane." He lightly patted her head, her hair compliant to his hand. "Just make sure it isn't contagious, okay?"

The light flush on Rin's face wasn't one of embarrassment anymore.

She glowered at him.

The heat that Suzaku felt before was nothing compared to what Rin emanated now.

_Um … maybe humor wasn't the best way to talk to Tohsaka-sensei._

"I am _not _insane, Kururugi! What are you, stupid? You-" Her arms stiff at her sides, she marched up to Kururugi. But just as soon as she approached him, her anger deflated. "… "

Rin backed away and crossed her arms, still scowling. "My apologies. It was a mistake I made because I was more informed than you. I guess it's flab on my mind. I'll be more careful next time explaining matters to you."

_… Flab?_

… There wasn't much there, for the record.

It appeared that she regained her composure, but underneath was still the other face of the oni.

"Private Kururugi, court-martialing isn't unheard of for soldiers who leer at their commanding officers."

He returned his gaze back to Tohsaka's eyes, sheepishly. "Is that right, Tohsaka-sensei? Sorry. I didn't mean any offence. I just didn't think you'd be concerned with flab much …"

Somehow, she lost the composure she just regained mere seconds before, her mouth open in a round O. "Eh- You shouldn't be apologizing-" Then, it hit her. She smiled.

"Oh, Kururugi-kun. You sure are funny. But you shouldn't say unnecessary things from now on. Stupid comments will only bring you death, you know."

"Hah, that's right. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." The murderous intent completely flew over Suzaku's snark radar. Not that he had one.

"… Maybe it isn't stupid comments that'll kill him. It might be stupid thoughts …" Tohsaka's muttering also flew past Suzaku's hearing. But she only indulged herself for a moment.

_Stupid thoughts can be fixed by information. _"Archer, how do I educate him?"

"Just explain it to him in words even he can understand, Rin." A disembodied voice infiltrated the air.

The words rang in Suzaku's ears, evoking an unreasonable discomfort.

No, that wasn't right. It was annoyance that was evoked. It was a powerful, weighted voice. Suzaku was used to arrogance, but this-

_Where is he?_

Suzaku searched the room, his unease and annoyance growing. There wasn't any audible laughter, but Suzaku just _felt_ it from this unnatural presence.

"I guess I have to, Archer."

Rin raised a single finger towards the ceiling.

_Gandr._

_"Neun. Acht. Saben."_

A slow, gentle ebony orb flew upwards. Hazy black sparks traversed the span of the room, sweeping over the corners of the room, then lazily sliding down the walls.

They crept into the crevices in the walls, focusing on certain points with a sharp crackle, and then a hiss as a smoky haze appeared over those points.

The smoke occupied the room. Burnt polymer, charred metal, twisted circuits-

Suzaku nearly gagged.

He gasped for air. _This is the exact feeling I had when I killed-_

* * *

><p>fatal:unrecognized<p>

"0100101010100110000000000" is not a recognized as an int_nal or exter _l command, pr_gram, or b_ch file _

fatalfatalfatalfatalfatalfat alfatalfatal

fatal

* * *

><p>Suzaku caught a mutter from Rin. Her knuckle was once again at her mouth.<p>

"-I'm surprised that actually worked. I guess I'm getting better at understanding these machines. It can't be helped if the Britannians get upset over a few bugs. OSI-"

"Tohsaka-sensei, what was that?"

"-Then again, it wouldn't look good if an Honorary Britannian vanished from surveillance during a royal investigation. Well, I'm sure Brant would understand-"

"Tohsaka." Suzaku grabbed Rin's shoulder. Momentarily, she glanced at him in surprise.

"Hm? What is it?"

"What was that? Was that magecraft?"

_… Those eyes. That's the expression Kururugi-kun looks best in. That's the expression I saw seven years ago. _

"Kururugi, what I told you is real. It's good to be surprised by a sudden turn of events, but it could sometimes cost you your life if you don't just accept it. Incidentally, you do understand that now is one of those times?"

"Yes"-

"I want you to survive, but if you don't want to accept who your enemy actually is, then I can't help you."

"But- So this isn't a joke? What I fought was a spirit?"

"Not a spirit, a Servant. It's … complicated." The taps of Rin's boots punctuated the air in the room. Her pacing slowed down as quickly as it started, and she turned to Suzaku. "I only have a few minutes to tell you about the exact situation Britannia is in, before Brant is requiredto investigate why I destroyed the listening devices in here. So I'd appreciate a little less joking and a lot more attention."

No longer was Suzaku joking. He nodded, at attention to the officer in the room.

A small part of him was thankful that Tohsaka didn't reprimand him for being … somewhat improper.

"What you just saw was just a simple spell. In Japan, there is a container of even greater power. If you thought what I did was impressive, then you would be in awe of this artifact.

"It is a Grail that can fulfill any wish, hidden in Fuyuki. Well, it would be more appropriate to say it's an unnatural wish-granting machine.

"The machine works through the summoning of seven spirits, called Servants, to determine who is fit for the Grail's power. These spirits are bonded to seven magus, called Masters. Does that make sense so far?"

"Seven Servants, seven Masters. Alright." Suzaku nodded. "It seems like a competition, Tohsaka-sensei."

Rin hesitantly responded. "That's one way of putting it, but you're better off thinking of it as a war. The fight for the Grail has essentially no rules other than the need for a single pair of victorious competitors. The past wars never had any supervision."

"Are these wars so dangerous? I mean, it's only seven-" Suzaku paused. "Wait, that thing I fought, that was a Servant? Even if it damaged the Lancelot, I beat it-"

"You didn't beat it. You didn't destroy it, and you didn't best it." There was an unexpected hardness in Tohsaka's tone.

"I'm not dead, so I assumed-"

"Kururugi, you weren't worth its time. That's why you're alive. I don't want to repeat myself again."

Suzaku clenched his hands. _So it's really true. I did fail, more than I thought I did. I did more damage to the people I fight for than the enemy. Because of me, the Lancelot fell, and the enemy- the Servant-_

He heard an exhale.

"Kururugi, I-" Another pause. "I'm sor-"

He looked up at her. This definitely wasn't the Tohsaka he knew. For a moment, she looked …

Vulnerable.

But her expression closed, and she returned to being Tohsaka-sensei.

"Kururugi, don't beat yourself up. If you're going to, at least pay attention to fixing this, alright?" A stern reprimand, but Rin's eyes had been kind. Suzaku took heart in that.

"Got it." This was a lot more taxing than Suzaku realized. Effectively, Rin had convinced him about magic, but …

_Well, if the Servant defeated me so easily …_ "So, what else is this Servant capable of?"

"That's always hard to say, because of the Servants' identities. They're as human as you and I in that regard. You see, Kururugi, they're …" Rin was hesitant to tell Suzaku about the true nature of Servants, because-

_-My Servant doesn't even remember his identity. The only proof I have doesn't have a record of what he can do. _

_I don't have an explanation why Servants are Heroic Spirits._

_Still, Kururugi needs to know who he's going to fight._

_I don't want to let him die. At least, not by being a part of a War he shouldn't have ever known about._

"They're what, Tohsaka-sensei?"

She steeled herself. "They're heroes. They're history's legends."

"What-" A raised hand silenced him.

_This isn't his war to fight. It wasn't supposed to be, but someone broke the rules. So … If I already involved him in this war, then he needs to know._

"Servants are the spirits of the world's most powerful figures. That's what I meant when I said they're not really human. They're memories called into reality by the Grail. Those who compete in the Grail War try to summon Servants who are the most powerful, and are the most compatible with them."

"… I'm sorry, Tohsaka-sensei. I'm a bit lost. I get what you're saying, but it's just hard to take in." He began counting on his fingers. "A historical figure that was able to fly, cut the Lancelot's Slash Harkens, stand on the shields, cut the MVS, and drain the energy fillers? That's a little strange."

_I guessed as much. _"You fought it, and you forgot to mention that it could hide itself from the Lancelot's Factspheres. You were asking how powerful they were, weren't you? I think you answered your question." A demonic expression infiltrated her smile at Suzaku's embarrassment.

"Ah, you're right. That's … Uh, that's really powerful." For a moment, Suzaku was able to escape his guilt. In the next, alarm struck him. "Wait, so there are _seven_ of these Servants?"

Rin sat down again, checking the time. She only had a few minutes left. "Glad you finally realized it. What you need to know is that Servants can be beaten. Knowing who they are is the best way to know their weaknesses, but there are other ways of identifying how to defeat them. They fall into defined classes when they are summoned. Think of it like weapons for a soldier.

"Soldiers who use certain types of weapons are predisposed for certain capabilities in battle. A sniper, for example, would be able to maintain his aim under fire, while a knightmare pilot needs excellent reflexes to control his frame. The classes Servants are bound to simplify their summoning, because calling a Heroic Spirit is as unbelievable as you stated it to be. This helps us, because we can then predict what our enemies can do by identifying their role. For Servants, their classes are Assassin, Caster, Lancer, Rider, Archer, Berserker, and Saber.

"The Servant you faced was Saber. Sabers are agile melee combatants, and they're usually considered to be the best class. Sabers are usually ranked highly in every category, but this one seemed a lot stronger than any Servant I've seen. I guess you can be glad that you survived an encounter with the most powerful Servant in this war."

Slowly, Suzaku was accepting and understanding what Rin was talking about. _I guess it makes sense, but …_ "Tohsaka-sensei, are all the Servants our enemies?"

It appeared that Tohsaka-sensei's favorite pose for thinking was touching her lips with a curled hand. "Well, you can count Archer as an ally …"

_Archer- Wait- "_Tohsaka-sensei, _you're_ a Master?"

"Mhmm." Rin replied as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world as she continued thinking.

Even as Rin began to speak, Suzaku's mind tried to comprehend the idea that a girl his age could control a being like the enemy he faced.

It_'s certainly possible, but someone my age shouldn't be in a War, not like this. Not with these Servants._

"Suzaku, do you have a good idea how Britannia's political situation is?"

"Erm, a little. We're doing fairly well, right?"

"You should change that. Britannia's in a state of crisis right now." _I only have three minutes left._ "Pay close attention, Kururugi. I'll be tossing around some words you might not understand, but try to keep up. We're running out of time.

"As you can imagine, with seven Servants fighting in Area Eleven, the Grail War should become immediately evident to the world. All the Grail Wars have been held in secrecy, and all the magical organizations, like the Church and the Magus Association, want to keep it that way. In fact, these organizations have regulated the Grail War for a long, long time. When Britannia invaded, the only way it could prevent the intervention of these organizations was to promise that a state of political stability would be maintained during each Grail War.

"The Grail War is already complex, and incredibly dangerous to the non-magus population without control or supervision. Adding a conventional war would destroy any balance that the Grail War had before. What you have to realize, Kururugi, is that the Grail is a force that can't be defined by humans. Britannia's actions have to be defined by it, and that's why all of Britannia's forces have been on high alert. We had to secure Area Eleven before the Grail War started. That's why Cornelia is here. Well, was.

"Britannia 'intended' to have all of the Masters fight locally in Fuyuki, on 'fair' grounds." Suzaku was surprised to hear Rin scoff under her breath at that. "The reality is that Britannia is trying to force the Chinese Federation and the Euro Universe to surrender all claims to Area Eleven, which means both the Grail and the sakuradite. The main reason why Britannia could do this is because it still has the support of the Magus Association and the Church, though its own prowess helps. But now, with Britannia only possessing two Servants, and with Cornelia's death, Britannia's hold on Area Eleven is going to be contested by the Chinese Federation."

"Wait, Tohsaka-sensei … If these organizations see Britannia failing in creating peace, then they'll withdraw their support, right?"

"You're on the right track. It's more that if Britannia becomes weak enough for Area Eleven to become a battleground, those organizations will support the strongest player. But right now, once they hear about this, they'll force Britannia to agree to a truce with all its enemies, by any means necessary. And once that happens-"

"Then Britannia will be removed from Area Eleven by the end of the Grail War." A new voice accompanied the visitor in the room of the OSI's containment vehicle. "You two seem chummy. Though I must say, Tohsaka, you don't have a high opinion of Britannia."

Kayeri Brant III smirked at Tohsaka's astonishment.

"Brant-! I thought I disabled the bugs and cameras in here!"

Kayeri shrugged. "Well, Tohsaka, I couldn't very well leave two adolescents in a van alone without supervision. Besides, eavesdropping remains an effective tool of espionage." He pointed at the windows. "You also left those open."

Rin glared at Kayeri. "I guess I should have expected that from the Director of OSI. I hope you have something besides gloating."

"Well, there's this little war room going on that we have to attend in a minute. Bring Private Kururugi along, too."

"Roger that. Let's go, Kururugi."

"Yes, sir! Tohsaka-sen- I mean, ma'am!" He saluted to the Director.

Both Rin and Kayeri flinched at the awkward display of formality. Rin looked meaningfully at Kayeri. He rolled his eyes back at her.

"Private Kururugi, I don't care what pet name you have for Specialist Tohsaka, and I don't want to be called sir. All I want is to avoid feeling old and to get this mess over with. Now, come along."

Suzaku nodded, and began to walk along with Tohsaka. Kayeri caught his shoulder before he passed.

"Kururugi, I would highly advise being quiet during this meeting unless addressed. Having two 'Elevens' and an Iroquois is already going to rankle a few of the pretty Purists."

"Understood, sir- I mean, Director."

"Call me Kayeri, or Brant, if you really have to." He let go of Suzaku's shoulder and strolled off to the G1 Base ahead.

Suzaku rolled over Kayeri's words.

_Iroquois- then he's an Honorary Britannian? _

_So it is possible to change the system from within._

_Well, it starts with helping Tohsaka-sensei with this Grail War._

* * *

><p>12 August 2017 a.t.b., 0113 hours<p>

Shinjuku, Area 11

* * *

><p>C:\C\PROXY connectto G-1CLOVIS<p>

Connecting …

C:\C\PROXY\G-1CLOVIS error

C:\C\PROXY connectto WilhelmPDA

Connecting …

C:\C\PROXY\WilhelmPDA ls filter

Documents

LocalSettings

Networks

Swimsuits

C:\C\PROXY\WilhelmPDA cd Networks

G-1MAINFRAME

OSIA11A

ASEEC

netsec

G-1 MAINFRAME unprotected

OSIA11A protection:high

ASEEC protection:high

C:\C\PROXY\WilhelmPDA connectto G-1MAINFRAME

Connecting …

C:\C\PROXY\WilhelmPDA recordto BlackC\08122017

* * *

><p>"I suppose this will be a joint operation, so if we could all introduce ourselves …" Clovis la Britannia was at the head of the table, observing the parties present . He motioned to his left.<p>

"G-General Asprius Bartley." Clovis's portly subordinate mopped his forehead with his yellowed handkerchief. He was exhausted and worried, though he showed it more than Clovis did. The loss of a Code R subject …

_That's what we're going to solve. Or at least, distribute the blame. _

"Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald of the Purist Faction." The Margrave nodded at Clovis, and Clovis returned the salute similarly.

A clear, confident, quiet voice spoke next. "Colonel Mackenzie King, Knightmare Group A, Purists."

_Mackenzie …_ For a moment, Clovis was troubled, but then he banished the regret from his mind.

"Ohoo, Lloyd Asplund of the Advanced Special Engineering Envoy Corps, at your service!" Lloyd waggled his hand in some sort of salute, and returned to fidgeting in his seat.

Honestly, Clovis didn't know what to make of the Earl. His brother was kind enough to lend him the quirky man, but whether that was a blessing or not still remained to be seen. That Lancelot of his ended up wrecked by the terrorist's new weapon. Even now, Earl Asplund looked agitated, repeatedly looking towards the door.

"Specialist Rin Tohsaka of the ASEEC."

Specialist Tohsaka … It was strange, for Clovis to treat an Eleven with such respect. Bartley had pointed it out to him repeatedly. Still, Clovis had to respect Tohsaka.

After all, she was a Magus.

After all that his brother went through, Clovis recognized how hard it must have been to live a life as a magus. That's why he put up with Bartley's criticisms.

_Thank goodness she's actually competent. She's one of the few people here who knows what she's doing. _

_And she's someone I can hold liable for this mess._

"Private Suzaku Kururugi."

When Clovis heard that this Eleven was the pilot of Lloyd's toy, he was shocked.

Then-

_Once the meeting is over, I'll see if I want him arrested or not. Of course, there's always an Eleven we can pull off the streets, but … I'd prefer to divert the public's attentions away from how and why my sister died to_ who _killed her._ _It would ameliorate me a bit more with the Purists. They'd appreciate a reason to revoke the Honorary Britannian system here. _

_And it never hurts to have more knightmares on your side._

"Director Kayeri Brant III. OSI."

Clovis didn't like Director Brant. Aside from being snide and uppity on a regular basis, he knew too much about Clovis's projects.

And personal life.

"Senior Agent George Noble."

Unimposing and quiet, Clovis didn't expect much out of Brant's subordinate.

_Why did Director Brant even bring him? He's just a subordinate. _

_Well, it doesn't matter._

"… Sir Guilford."

A sigh escaped Clovis's mouth. He felt badly for Cornelia's Knight.

His eyes were weary, his expression haggard.

Every so often, he'd turn to Clovis and just stare at him.

It worried Clovis. It was true that he left the G1 Base early to prepare a press briefing, but he didn't cause his sister's injuries.

And yet he still felt guilty. Maybe if he committed more troops to her security, or commanded the battle himself and let her sleep off the jet lag-

"I'm Odysseus eu Britannia, but I guess you already knew that … It's nice to meet you all."

_My brother._

_My older brother, with the exact same expression he has no matter what. Even with our sister dead, he looks as ignorant as ever. _

_Still, I can't hold it against him. He never held the intelligence or ambition that my siblings have. He's quite like me._

_I guess we can start now._

* * *

><p>"Bartley, can you debrief us on the developments that occurred yesterday, on our side?" Clovis nodded at Bartley, who took one last swipe of sweat off his forehead.<p>

"Yes, my lord." He stood, and hobbled over turn the tactical display screen on the table. The painkillers helped him ignore the hole in his leg that the doctors treated after Cornelia shot him, but it still nibbled at his mind as he began to re-create the Army's role in Shinjuku.

"At roughly 1300 yesterday, we were attacked by a reinforced group of terrorists. The group we were hunting received extra men from one of the subway entrances we closed. They blasted it open. Fortunately, our casualties were relatively light, and we were driving them back. Princess Cornelia decided to join our operation instead of searching for the Immortal that went missing."

Muttering was the best of the response to that announcement. The worst was Jeremiah's outburst.

"What- You mean on top of this disaster, we lost an Immortal?" Jeremiah almost leapt out of his seat, impassioned in his disbelief and anger. "You incompetent fool!"

Ordinarily, Clovis would have let Jeremiah have his say, but this situation was too dire for frivolous antics.

"Jeremiah, please." Clovis raised his hands. "It's late."

Jeremiah strained to prevent himself from further verbal barrages.

"… Yes, my prince."

Margrave Jeremiah was a strong supporter of Clovis's command, as well as someone Clovis could actually call a friend. Quite a few of their conversations involved a good deal of big-headed, pompous fawning on the Margrave's part, but Jeremiah was friendly enough. As the head of Area Eleven's five Purist regiments and party elements, Jeremiah held a large portion of Britannia's knightmares in the settlements. True, Clovis agreed with the Purist's party policies, and Jeremiah got along well with Bartley, and the Purists served with distinction throughout Clovis's reign as Viceroy, but it always paid off to keep someone with that much power nearby.

Clovis waved his hands at Bartley. "You can continue."

"Ah, thank you, my lord. The Princess was insistent on letting her oversee the operation. What happened after that is something our men are still investigating."

He pulled up the streets right next to the train station. Immediately, five triangular knightmare indicators began blinking.

"We believe that the terrorists captured the train with the Princess's Gloucesters and turned them against us. I had ordered an armored column to engage, which turned badly. That's when we allowed the ASEEC to engage. My mistake was ordering in those vehicles. Because of this, we had lost a third of our armor, which forced our infantry to cover our holes in our defenses. The Princess ordered the escort assigned to her to assist in pressing the other districts back, and replaced them with five infantry squadrons. And that's when-" Bartley glanced at Guilford. "- Well, we know what happened."

"You're telling me that we lost _how_ many vehicles to five knightmares?" Kayeri was a little incredulous.

"Ah, six Sutherlands and seven M-33 Clintons, in that attack alone. There were also two more Clintons and two Sutherlands destroyed in another incident."

"So, we lost eight knightmares and nine tanks in two attacks from the Eleven resistance, out of how many?"

"Director, we brought fifteen knightmares and twenty Clintons. We didn't anticipate-"

"You lost fifty percent of your armored force. Something's wrong with your anticipation, it seems."

Bartley almost let loose a string of retorts, but he backed off. "I have submitted myself for an oversight hearing. I will accept responsibility for this."

"Even if you weren't necessarily at fault, General Bartley?"

The room turned to Colonel Mackenzie King. She was staring intently at the section of the city with the playback of five blue triangles turning red, then wiping the approaching thirteen blue triangles off the map.

If Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald was the Purist Faction's political head, Colonel King was a rising star in controlling its military arms. Mackenzie King was the only daughter of Owen King, hero of the Second Pacific War and the last of the prestigious King legacy. Her tall stature, long blonde hair, and fair features would have marked her as one of the Purist's darlings, but she was roughened by her service in the military since she was 14, seven years ago. Indeed, her service record was stellar. Originally serving with Britannia's 1st Wing, she became a temporary Wing Commander three years ago, during an incident over contested airspace. The rank stuck with her for a few weeks before she transferred to the Purist's Knightmare Corps. Two years there saw her to Colonel. Rumor had it she would be Brigadier soon. Even for an ace of the skies and the ground, this was impressive.

Clovis remembered all of this distinctly. After all, it wasn't too long ago that she rejected his offer of knighthood.

_I still wish she would have tried on one of my swimsuits. Well, it can't be helped. I don't think the Purist's pressures on her to marry helped much, either. I guess that's the price of being the descendant of a long line. It must be rough, being the only one left of the King line._

_Then again, she's not competing for Father's attentions with hundreds of other siblings._

Mackenzie lifted her gaze from the tactical display. "Your deployment wasn't the problem here. You responded by SOP for terrorists, didn't you?"

"Yes, Colonel. The moment our air reconnaissance reported the presence of captured knightmares. I moved the 6th Armored's Anti-Knightmare division into the sector. Then, we lost them."

"I see. Then it was the enemy commander's grasp of tactics, and not of grand strategy, that beat your forces. You responded correctly, but your men panicked." Her fingers traced the disordered, jittery movements of the blue triangles. She spoke, almost to herself. "This is why we've been changing our command structure to phase in field commanders. That's why Princess Cornelia was here …"

She looked at Kayeri. "Director, did your agents find any recordings of that engagement?"

"I'm afraid not, Colonel King. We were more concerned with the events of the Princess's murder."

"Understood." She turned back to General Bartley. "Do you think all of this was coordinated?"

"I suspect so." He zoomed out from the sector and displayed the entire map. The attack of the five knightmares to the west of the G-1 Base, and the destruction of the two tanks and knightmares to the east were circled. "Two simultaneous attacks stretched us thin, compounded with the firefights throughout the ghetto. If this was led by one man …"

Kayeri grimaced. "That makes sense, with the evidence we found. I suppose the army's briefing is done?"

Jeremiah scowled. "I don't think so. We're still avoiding the question of how this 'commander' took out Britannia's good men. Those Elevens don't even have the intelligence to pilot a knightmare effectively, let alone outsmart the Goddess of War herself. Unless, of course, they're involved in some trickery you spooks get involved in."

"All I meant to say was that it would be more fruitful right now for OSI to present our findings."

"As I expected, spies and their toys. How trite."

Resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, Kayeri weighed the consequences of-

_It's worth it._

"Why, Margrave Gottwald, however did you guess? Then again, it is a fair one. We're pretty involved in, well … everything, unless you lack confidence in almighty Britannia's best? At least, I would suppose it's the job of the Office of Secret Intelligence to be intelligent, hmm?" A snort from Agent Noble accompanied the end of Brant's speech, which didn't help the situation.

"You impudent- You forget your place, redskin!"

Kayeri shrugged. "Enlighten me what my place is, Margrave Gottwald."

"Snide bastard. I'll-"

"Ask for your forgiveness, Director. The Purists mean no offense towards your heritage." Mackenzie stood up, a hand placed over the Margrave's shoulder. Jeremiah looked like he was going to retort, but she shook her head. Her good manners were slightly ruined by a suppressed chuckle.

Similarly, Senior Agent Noble had nudged Kayeri, and Kayeri replied. "None taken, Colonel. If General Bartley is done, I'll present OSI's findings."

Clovis waved his hand. "Very well. There isn't much left to figure out from this."

Despite Clovis's misgivings, the director did have a line of credentials that commanded respect. It was hard to believe that he served in the Second Pacific Incident, that he was on the front lines, that he was part of the first Knightmare Corps, that he single-handedly turned the tide-

"OSI has spent the last eleven hours investigating the incidents with the ASEEC and the G-1 Base. We'll start with the G-1 Base." Kayeri plugged a flash drive into the display. A series of photographs appeared, with data and correlations attached to each. His attitude was completely serious, almost businesslike.

"We'll start with an approximate timeline of the incident. We have reports from eight soldiers that one of Cornelia's guard squadrons attacked the others at roughly 1420, and subsequently detonated their explosive armaments when they approached the other squadrons. This evidence is corroborated with footage from the security grid cameras placed when Shinjuku was designated a ghetto."

A grainy video emerged on the display. Sure enough, a single squadron appeared to be conversing among themselves, until they drew their weapons. For a brief moment, the fighting raged, and then the attackers ran towards the others. Mutters flew throughout the room as the squadrons were engulfed in fire.

"At this time, the events in the G-1 are unclear. Our forensics lab has identified the explosives placed in the munitions depot within the base, but the only information we were able to extract was the timer's input. It was set to detonate with thirty second fuses. This indicates that the mission was either a suicide mission, or that the attackers were skilled enough to attack the base, kill the Princess, and escape in thirty seconds."

Kayeri pulled up an image of the wrecked G-1 Base. "That's all we could get out of the base. Any recording devices inside were destroyed." He turned to Guilford. "Sir Guilford, do you have anything else to add?"

"… Nothing else, Director."

There was more to the situation, and Director Brant knew it. He also knew when to leave a grieving man alone. "Alright, pending further investigation, that's what OSI has. We have a few more theories, but we'll present them after ASEEC's bit. Now, for the second incident."

Kayeri closed the files and opened another folder. He flicked through videos, graphs, and photos until-

"Right, we'll start here."

Suzaku inhaled sharply. This was the battlefield he had left over eleven hours ago.

Another window popped up. A video played, displaying a blur of static standing its ground in the fire of one Sutherland. As it depleted its ammunition, the blur flew forward, engulfing the leg of the knightmare and travelling up the body. It was a truly disturbing sight, a blur streaking up a giant, each movement resulting in a limb detached from the giant's body. As it reached the head, a collective gasp was taken by the room's occupants. The blur flew away, and the Sutherland fell, half of its chest gone, a leg and arm sliced off, and its head falling to the ground.

The burst of light from the exploding knightmare ended the video.

"This footage was taken from the first downed Sutherland after its pilot ejected. We were pretty lucky to get this, since its Factsphere was all but shot to pieces. We looked at the Clintons and Sutherlands that were destroyed prior to the ASEEC's engagement with the enemy, and their destruction is pretty telling of what this opponent is capable of. The best evidence of what we're up against, however, is the ASEEC's Lancelot."

Kayeri smiled at Lloyd's scowl. "Hello there, Lloyd."

"-… pudding … ear canal … drill bits- no, sakuradite …"

"Good day to you too. Surprisingly, the Lancelot-" And he pulled it up to the display. Murmurs of admiration hovered about the room. It was a beautiful knightmare, after all. "-didn't have a camera or black box onboard. Someone cut costs and replaced it with assessment sensors and a _very _detailed Local Positioning System. Fortunately, we were able to obtain the 'combat data' that the ASEEC had taken and used it to recreate the battle."

The table flickered, and then hummed as the holographic structures and the ethereally rendered Lancelot rose from the screen.

"This took our entire tech team five hours to complete. Enjoy."

For a rendering done in ten hours, it was incredibly detailed. Every aspect of the Lancelot was captured, and the war-torn street was in almost photographic quality. Even Lloyd had to admire the work OSI did, though he knew that it was as simple as using the model that ASEEC made and capturing the street with laser molds and full-area scanners.

The virtual Lancelot charged forward and engaged an unidentifiable enemy, a ball of static.

It played out just like a film, a series of events captured in segmented clips in Suzaku's mind.

Lancelot, thrown about by its own Slash Harkens, the splintered holsters decorating the battlefield.

His shields, depleted by the blur on them.

The sword he wielded, cleaved by the blur.

Hopes were raised in the slightest instant as the White Knightmare hammered down with the remnant of its blade, but everyone knew how the contest ended. It turned, and in that brief instant of vulnerability, the knightmare's back was shorn in two. The Lancelot collapsed.

"So now, we know how the story goes. Private Kururugi, would you give us a report about fighting this opponent?"

All eyes turned to Suzaku.

_It's time for me to confront my failure. I guess it's better than a court-martial, though._

"Yes, sir. Around 1330, Princess Cornelia requested the ASEEC's assistance to deal with an enemy that had a 'disrupter.' En route, I engaged the captured knightmares that threatened the Princess's flank. I dispatched one, and they retreated."

He hesitated, nervous in front of the superiors that he failed, no matter what Tohsaka had said. "I continued on to engage the blur- the enemy. The Director's video gives a good picture of how it went. I was unable to eliminate the threat as I lost power."

Straightaway, he stood at attention when Margrave Jeremiah rose.

"I have a question, Private Kururugi. Who gave you permission to pilot a knightmare?"

_Why is he asking me- Oh._ "I was-"

"Before you ask that, Margrave Jeremiah, remember that the ASEEC is under the Second Prince's command. Let me ask you this. Why are you asking?"

"He's an Eleven-"

"And so am I. Is there a problem?"

This probably wasn't the best day for Jeremiah, having Numbers pop up all over the place. First this lowly Private, and now this little girl "Tohsaka" with the dubious title of "Specialist." Any other day, he would have had the two of them arrested and thrown into prison. And yet he had tried with that arrogant Director. It didn't pay to try twice, at least in the presence of two Princes and Colonel King.

"… Nevermind, it doesn't matter. Alright, Brant. What is this blur that Kururugi fought?"

"Glad you asked a question that took our agents seven hours to confirm." Kayeri opened yet another file. "This is the first exhibit we found."

"A footprint?" Clovis looked closer at the screen. "Surely, this isn't anything special."

"Well, Prince Clovis, it's a footprint in concrete."

"What?"

"That was my first impression as well. The footprint was found …" Kayeri brought the simulation up again, to where the Lancelot was pressing its sword down on the blur. "Right here." He pointed directly under the blade. "Agent Noble, would you like to elaborate?"

"Yes, sir. The print itself wasn't made by a person stomping into the ground. The person, and thus the foot, had to be vibrated into the ground to make such a fine impression in the concrete with such fine particles. The footprint indicates that something human was there, and the size and shape is from an adolescent, around ten to fourteen."

The entire room stared at Noble in disbelief.

"Well, look for yourself." He rescaled the print to its full size. "Who's the youngest here?"

Tohsaka blinked as the room turned to her.

"M-me?"

Director Brant smiled. "Specialist Tohsaka, could you place your foot on the table?"

"Have Kururugi do it. I'm not going up there!"

"Tohsaka, we suspect that this print was made by a female. More arching of the sole, or something like that. Get up there and show us the similarities."

"… Yes, sir." Rin stood up and tried to step to the table as elegantly as she could. She placed her boot over the print.

For a moment, Suzaku noticed how dark her stockings were.

"… It's smaller …" Rin was surprised. Her combat boots weren't that large, and yet …

"You may step down." Kayeri waved Rin off the table, and continued speaking. "Do note that the print is larger than the actual foot that made it, because of the vibrations which affected the foot. As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, this opponent of ours is a child."

Lloyd jumped up, finally able to loosen his tongue against the shock he was stricken with.

He had lost his precious Lancelot to Brant, and now _this_?

"But that's impossible! A child, against my MVS? It should have died!"

"Well, we think it was made of steel, at least. As you've probably guessed, any ordinary child would have died. We concluded that this wasn't an ordinary child."

"Director, what are you implying?" Mackenzie addressed Kayeri in a skeptical tone. So, far things had made sense, but now …

"We're getting there, Colonel. We have just one thing to show, and the ASEEC will clarify all of this." Kayeri opened the last file. "This is the largest area of damage done to the Lancelot."

Suzaku and Lloyd winced.

It was the gash in the back armor of the Lancelot, right at the Yggdrasil Drive. A pristine split in the armor, it appeared as if it was made by design rather than by accident.

Everyone knew differently.

"With this and the footprint, our tech team was able to create a full simulation." A tiny human figure wielding a sword replaced the blur under the blade.

"This corresponds to the recorded values for the rotation and displacements of the servos and hydraulics in the Lancelot. We estimate that she's no taller than five feet, and that she's either really small for her age, or really young. Either way, we're fairly certain that a little girl with a bladed weapon is working with the Japanese resistance, and took out a next-generation knightmare like nothing." Kayeri saw the disbelieving expressions on the faces of the Purist representatives, Sir Guilford, General Bartley, and Lloyd. He shrugged. "That's how it is."

Amongst the outcry of the incredulous parties, Kayeri noticed a certain knight trembling.

"That's enough." The chair Guilford was just on toppled, knocked over as he gripped the edges of the table. "That's far enough, Director Brant. You still haven't given us an explanation how Corne- the Princess died, and instead you've given us some theory on how a girl took out a knightmare."

"Sir Guilford-"

"Stop wasting our time. The more we listen about a steel child who can supposedly wreck a top-class knightmare, the harder it will be to catch her murderer."

"Sir Guilford, I'm sorry for your loss. I'm asking for your patience, and I understand that you're upset-"

"_Damn you_." The hissed words belied the rage boiling under Guilford's skin. He pointed an accusing finger at Suzaku. "Accept that the pilot Kururugi failed his duty. I know your track record with Numbers, and you show an inappropriate amount of favoritism. Do _your_ job, so I can do _mine_."

"… There are some things more important than the death of a princess. This is one of them." Kayeri sighed, pulling up the bird's-eye of the battlefield. He drew a circle around the G-1 Base and the Lancelot's engagement. "These incidents are intertwined. All I'm asking you to do is trust me. There isn't any other way of teaching you who our enemy is."

Something snapped in the knight.

His hand went to his holster, to a decorated guard of a weapon.

Ornate and obsolete, Cornelia had still carried it at her hip as a sign of her office. It was one of the few indulgences of command she held.

Kayeri found himself staring down that weapon's business end.

Guilford had taken Cornelia's rifle-saber, when they removed her corpse off the battlefield.

Despite the snarl on his face, Guilford's voice was as steady as the length of the barrel he was wielding.

"Take it back."

"Sir Guilford-"

"I will _not_ let you trivialize her death, Brant. By her blade and memory, I will carve respect into your blasted heart. For Cornelia and Britannia, I'll end your _life_._"_

Kayeri's narrowed eyes matched the intensely furious expression on Guilford's face. Agent Noble had drawn his weapon, and was covering Guilford.

A tense moment passed.

Noble found his pistol being lowered by his Director.

Kayeri spoke evenly. "I'll handle this. I apologize, Guilford. I meant no disrespect."

The cavernous barrel showed no recognition of the concession, and the voice was similarly unforgiving. "That's a start. Now, instead of wasting time on this charade, I want all of OSI's resources focused on finding the perpetrator of Cornelia's murder, starting with any connections held by Suzaku Kururugi."

"I can't do that. I have it on good authority that Private Kururugi had no connection to Princess Cornelia's death other than going above and beyond his duty to protect it."

"On whose authority?"

"Mine, of course. Well, there's also a little thing called a royal edict. I doubt your words and gun countermand the Emperor's direct orders." Kayeri pulled out the packet of orders with the Imperial Britannian seal emblazoned on it. He passed it to Guilford and waited patiently as Guilford read it and lowered Cornelia's rifle-saber.

For a single instant, Guilford looked like he was about to choke Kayeri. He turned to Clovis and Odysseus.

"My Princes, your sister died. You have far more right than I do to judge this investigation." The weighted question hung in the air. _My charge is gone. What should I do? _

_Can something so unbelievable have caused this unbelievable tragedy?_

The room soon was filled with heavy silence, bated breath as-

"Ah, Sir Guilford, let's hear the Director out, shall we? Believe it or not, everything he's saying does make sense."

And there he was, the mediocre prince, finally coming out of his corner.

Guilford was nearly frozen with shock.

_I knew that the First Prince was a bit dull, but he's really buying into this? Has he lost his mind?_

_He can't possibly believe in something so preposterous._

He looked helplessly at Clovis, unable to react as Clovis nodded in agreement.

"Sir Guilford, there's your answer." The Director immediately wrested control back into his possession. He gestured over to the far side of the table, and passed said control over to his Office's counterparts. "I'll turn this over to the ASEEC. They'll do a better job of explaining this phenomenon. Tohsaka, if you'd be so kind?"

* * *

><p>It was convenient, that Brant described Rin Tohsaka as a member of the Engineering Envoys, and not the Magus Association.<p>

_My job is already hard enough. I don't need to confuse the uninformed more with stories akin to the Illuminati or the Freemasons. _

_That said, for a Director of Britannia's intelligence, Brant really doesn't have much tact. _

"As OSI just demonstrated, our opponent has the profile of a child, and the power of ten knightmare groups. This isn't something you can choose to believe or disregard, but a very real threat to Britannia. What I'm about to tell you is the only the surface of Britannia's involvement with such beings. My sole responsibility right now is to tell you who our enemies are, and how to fight them." Rin aimed a pointed glare as Jeremiah rose to join Guilford standing. "And before any of you leave because you find this an impossible phenomenon, I'll tell you that departing now will get you killed. But even if it didn't, I still wouldn't recommend it. Now, do I have your attention?"

Slowly, the members of the room indicated their consent.

Not that it mattered that much. If anyone did disclose this, nobody would believe them.

And no one wanted to neglect a potential threat simply because it sounded preposterous.

Seven years ago, who would have thought that walkers with flying pods and rollerblades would have dominated the modern battlefield?

"Thank you for your cooperation." Rin collected herself. _This is really only for Sir Guilford, General Bartley Margrave Jeremiah, Lloyd, and Colonel King. Everyone else here knows the truth. Still, I hate speeches like this._

"The enemy is a member of the Grail Project, a human augmentation program designed in the EU and deployed in Area Eleven. All operatives of the Grail Project work in pairs, consisting of a Master and a Servant. What you just saw is a Servant, the main force behind the pair. They're heavily augmented and extensively trained, and the average Servant can eradicate an entire armored battalion with ease. Those who control these Servants are called Masters, the Servant's handlers. They designate their targets and maintain their Servants in preparation for their next engagement.

"A Master chooses what type of Servant he can deploy. Servants are defined by their classes of augmentations they're given, allowing them to specialize in different fields of operation. We suspect that the Servant we just saw was a Saber-class Servant. A Saber has enhanced mobility, strength, and reflexes. Their entire musculature and nervous system is rebuilt from the ground up. They're extremely well rounded, but are especially capable in close combat. Usually, they're designed to engage and eliminate other Servants, but this one seems to have been outfitted with anti-material armaments and a jamming device."

A long, barely stifled yawn stopped Rin.

"Are you bored, Lloyd?"

Lloyd scratched his ear. "I'm terribly sorry, Tohsaka. This sounds like one of my half-cracked fantasies when I'm not entirely sane. So I think I'll be excused for finding that a tad unbelievable."

"Well, it was one of your 'half-cracked fantasies.' Your biomedical engineering master's thesis in Colchester."

"Thaaat thing? I wrote that in my freshman year in old Colchie! If you read that paper, then you know that I said it would only work at least thirty years from now! The only thing that survived was the powered assault armor. You know, _my_ adaptation to the Glasgow? MJOLNIR's Yggdrasil Drive, Mark VI? The one that practically won us the war? The soldiers themselves just aren't possible!"

"Really? You were the one who proposed it. You almost got it commissioned."

"But not like this! My beautiful Lancelot is far superior-"

Rin's scowl shut him up. "Just explain it. You're the authority here, even if you don't believe in it."

He put on a melodramatic air. "Fine, fine. Listen up, everybody. Suppose, just for a moment, that we have a group of soldiers with reinforced ceramic composite bones, nanotube fiber muscle bands, and a rewired nervous system with triple the amount of neurons any ordinary human would have. My paper was on how you can't just half-ass it. You want super-strength? Of course you're going to need stronger bones! Don't want your soldier tripping over his newfound might? He's going to get some new nerves!

"It's an all or nothing, take it or leave it deal. Strength, structure, and control. That's what you get, but the cost is incredible. It's a step behind creating an entire human from scratch. When I wrote my paper, I was quite naïve. We didn't have the technology to shove ceramics into people, or to rip out their muscles and implant fibers and hormones inside. And the nervous system? Pssh. That's one nasty beastie I don't want to get involved with.

"What makes me believe, to an extent, that 'Saber' could be real is her youth. These little beauties have to be built when the subject is _extraordinarily_ young, to facilitate an _excellent_ integration with the human frame. After all, young bodies are _so_ malleable. That's why the Spartans started early! They're so much more flexible than an adult body. You could replace their entire body with synthetic parts, and their spine could just adapt to it with a few stem cells. Their only problem is twisting their joints apart, but that's what training's for, right? And sure, they don't last long, and they tend to burst out of their bodies once they get-" He laughed, seeing the horrified and disgusted faces. "That's why I dismissed my paper in my second year, ladies and gents! Oh, and for you moral bleeding hearts, of course Britannia would never do such an atroouuucious thing!"

Rin blanched uncharacteristically. "Thank you, Lloyd. Could you explain what the theoretical capabilities of a Saber would be?"

"If she could block my MVS- my MASER Vibration Sword, for the uninformed- she would have to resist forces upwards of meganewtons, temperatures of 1000 C, and kinetic shocks of gigahertz and gigajoules. To grind concrete, she'd have to be made of something like titanium, or reinforced steel-"

"Or be wearing powered assault armor, right?"

"Of course. Otherwise, the girl would be wearing a halo right now-" The color drained from Lloyd's face. "That's a possibility. Quite a possibility indeed."

"Thank you, Lloyd." Rin left Lloyd to his own muttering devices. "That's the best way to think of Servants-"

"Really now? I think you're having some merry fun with Asplund and Brant." A standing, glaring Jeremiah raised this objection. "Don't give cryptic answers. This crock and bull story has no bearing on Guilford's point, that it was an Eleven who failed."

"If you would let me speak-"

"I don't think so. You've had your chance, and you've shoved stories of Servants and Masters down our throats!"

"Jeremiah-" A hand once again tried to restrain the Margrave-

"No, Mackenzie! I want this squint-eyed Eleven to tell us the truth-" Something caught in his throat, and Jeremiah clutched at it, gagging.

"You want the truth? You can't handle the truth." Rin stood, at the end of her endurance. "You're so caught up in your delusions of racial _supremacy_ that you won't recognize that _your own country_ has been striving to the dream of St. Darwin for a century, and you've been left in the dust as a perverse mockery of 'purity'. I'll give you the truth, and I'll make you realize how wrong you are."

"Lies-"

He started, a folder slammed in front of his face. "Project Rebirth, 1943. Radiation, chemical cocktails, and psychological imprinting." She slid out a picture of a musclebound man in the prime of his youth. What was supposed to be a superman, however, was a pitiful mass with drool slopping out of the side of his mouth, and a vacant, dead expression in his eyes. "It failed."

Another folder. "Les Enfantes Terribles, 1969. Gene therapy and eugenics. Britannia just wanted more of her best sons." Rin placed two more photos on the table, one of a concrete complex on an island, the next of a crater in the water. "Shadow Moses, and what's left of it."

She spread a series of papers out. "Treadstone, 1980. Behavioral modification and moral degradation. This one actually worked, though. The Cain Complex was the first extensive behavior modification program addressed at eradiating moral constraints. The results were CQC dominance, heightened target awareness, an incorrigible superiority complex, and unparalleled cognitive processing. This came with the cost of mental deterioration, but the successes still remained."

She cocked her head sideways. "Jeremiah, do you know Blackbriar?"

He was briefly taken aback, but Jeremiah managed to muster a growl in reply. "What of it?"

"Doesn't this seem similar?"

"Yes, and again, what of it? It's training appropriate for the Royal Guard. In fact-" And here he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "It seems like you're making this up based on our methods. You'll excuse me for being a little suspicious."

"Then you shouldn't be surprised that Blackbriar is the direct descendant of Treadstone."

Another folder appeared in Rin's hands. The art of bureaucratic intimidation was a subtle one, but with enough folders, anyone would crack.

"Injections. Steel wool. Shock therapy. Ecstasy. The 'Hell Run.' Waterboarding." With each word she let a picture of the described treatment fall.

"So how could you deny it, Jeremiah? You should be proud of 'being part' of this illustrious history of fake humans. "

"Tohsaka-!"

Jeremiah tried to stand again, to respond to this barrage of lies. He fell hard back in his chair, his knees weakened by a hidden black orb. Rin slowly lifted another folder, opening it and letting the contents spill over the table. She spoke softly.

"And finally …" A last folder fell. "Immortals, 2010."

There it was. Finally, the tie-in between the impossible and an absurd reality.

The infamous project, the secret weapon of Britannia. The Belatu Cadre, Old Britannian for "The Death-Decorated Ones."

The best information available about the Immortals was on the internet and by word of mouth. The rumors spanned the width of every single hack theory made by current authorities in Britannian conspiracies to official sanctions by OSI's Internal Affairs and Central Control. They were the partakers of the Fountain of Youth, they were the spirits of fallen soldiers, they were Britannia's newest branch into the next generation of combat, they were drug addicts who discovered the right cocktail before the feds crashed them. Their origin was said to stem from the product of the long search for Saint Darwin's final selection and the Chalice forged from the Black Cauldron.

One thing remained constant throughout each, though. The name of the Immortals wasn't just for show.

For at the end, death lost all meaning. It simply adorned them, the dozens of Immortals all dedicated to serving Britannia.

Yes, immortality itself was such a simple thing, the condition of a human being's existence irrelevant. Immortals just _were_.

Britannia was steeped in science, and had been for the past century. That wasn't always the case. These men and women of constant existence called back to Britannia's birth, when legends and myths walked among the Celtic Druid-Kings. They were made by science, of course, if they existed. But what they _did _was beyond what science could fathom.

With the revelations of these 'supersoldier' programs, it wasn't a surprise that mysticism was the next step that Britannia took. After all, any science advanced beyond human comprehension is magic, right?

So, even among the veterans, those hardened to phenomenon fantastic, the return to Immortal terminology awakened a wary reverence. Even if they were an urban legend, they commanded a modicum of respect.

Rin mentally thanked Kayeri for the assembly before her. Every occupant in the room had the clearance of knowing the "truth," that Immortals were real, and they saved Britannia during the Battle of Fuyuki.

They knew of the story shielding the Holy Grail War from the terror that the world saw at Fuyuki.

_It's ridiculous. It's an amalgamation of a simple miracle, translated into science, with military propaganda._

_But if it makes my job easier, so be it. If they can understand the qualities of a Servant and help me win though this false parallel, so be it._

_These lies …_

_This is what it means to be a magus._

"I don't think I need to say anymore. Do you understand now, Margrave?"

For the moment, Jeremiah was cowed, and he answered with a downcast nod.

"Where was I?" Rin paused for a moment before continuing where she left off. "We're still determining who's exactly behind the construction of these Servants, but as Lloyd said, these soldiers are certainly possible. I've included a dossier on the other Servant classes, with declassified intel on their engagements." Rin pulled out a stack of folders from a briefcase. "Review them, and prepare your soldiers and equipment for the scenarios that we've predicted."

Still unconvinced, the majority of the room picked up the reports with some hesitation.

Lloyd flipped through the file. "So let's say we buy your supersoldier theory. A 90% casualty rate? Isn't that a little excessive, Tohsaka?"

"Don't underestimate your opponents. A rampaging Servant with full support from its Master can make quick work of any modern military. To make matters worse, Masters may try to field 'Noble Phantasms.' A Noble Phantasm is the release of the mental restrictions on a Servant's augmentations, increasing combat abilities and releasing a concentrated burst of prana, the lifeblood of a Servant, as a physical manifestation of the Servant's will." Rin pulled up a plot of Area Eleven. A red circle expanded from Tokyo, engulfing the area in a twenty mile radius. "The yield of Servant using three Noble Phantasms was conservatively measured by the ASEEC in kilotons of sakuradite. That's all of Tokyo, several districts, and a third of the soldiers we have stationed here. That's twenty million souls."

No matter how absurd the idea was, even the most skeptical fell deathly silent at the idea of such devastation.

"Hell. Situation normal? More like beyond all fucked up …" King exhaled, voicing the opinions of the occupants of the room.

Agent Noble heartily agreed. _Fucked up beyond all recognition._

Rin continued. "Servants are to humans what knightmares are to tanks. This is the post-modern battlefield, where biological alterations are usurping mechanical weapons. And, frankly, we're to blame. Britannia won the last war by ending the era of mechanized combat with knightmares, and opened the doors to enhanced human warfare with Immortals.

"This time, we lost the human arms race. We lost when the Euro Universe began its experiments in homunculi, and when Britannia decided to forgo this research in favor of the knightmare frame. Where Britannia investigated eternal life, the EU trialed the compression of life into two weeks. The EU now has control of the majority of the Servants. All of a Servant's abilities are derived from expending their biological integrity, by 'overclocking' its body. You can say that this is the main weakness of the Servant system. To achieve its strength, the Servant has to give up the very fiber of its existence."

Colonel King's expression was thoughtful as she intertwined her fingers. "Even if their lifespan is that short, I don't understand why the EU couldn't just produce more Servants. In their situation, I'd array them en masse to overstretch our forces, and strongarm us to engage them with our 'outdated' Immortals."

Rin shook her head. "It's more of an 'all or nothing' deal. Servants cannot be made halfway. That's why they don't last long, and they're so expensive. Due to the short lifespan and exorbitant costs of Servants, their deployment is costly and limited. Anyone who can afford to use one wouldn't field them haphazardly. Servants can survive for a long time without using their abilities. They're like missiles. You can store them, but it's fire and forget once they're used."

"That's like saying a missile's weakness is the result of what it's made to do. Is there anything we can do to prevent a Servant from buying everyone the farm?"

"There's two ways to do it. A missile can be shot down, or its guidance system can be destroyed. The first option is just as difficult when applied to Servants. The outcome is uncertain in a battle between Servants, and relies on whoever can expend enough resources before a Noble Phantasm is fielded. The second option is simpler. A Servant can be defeated by eliminating the Master. To keep a Servant in check and compliant to the will of its creators, every Master is entrusted with certain means of commanding the Servant. These means tie the Servant's life with the Master's, ensuring the Servant will dedicate its existence to protecting its Master and following its Master's will."

Bartley frowned. "What are these means, Specialist?"

"That classified information, General." _Just like your Code R. _"If you have to know, think of it like their predecessors, our Immortals. An Immortal's life iterates recursively on itself because of its augmentations. A Servant's life can't do the same, because of the rapid depletion of its prana- its life from all the augmentations it has. A Servant needs to be supplied with a substitute for its own life, and that's supplied by its Master. But it goes further than that. Just as Immortals had their lives tied to permanence, Servants must surrender a part of their life to their Master to complete their creation. That's the exchange which allows the EU to control these trans-humans.

"Right now, we have reports that Servants are present in the EU and in Area Eleven, but the number of Servants is unconfirmed. They've effectively restricted any invasion into the European territory itself, and they're trying to subvert Britannian control of sakuradite stocks. This incident was just the first of their hostilities. We're expecting several more attacks on our infrastructure, especially on our military bases, our production capabilities, and our ports. Eventually, they'll progress to attacking our command structure and military forces. We've been fortunate that this is the most of the damage they've inflicted so far.

"Any questions before I continue?"

After a long pause, Jeremiah took the first words.

"Let me get this straight. Even if these Servants are real, those European cowards are actually able to _threaten_ Holy Britannia? And we have nothing to counter them? You expect us to just roll over and die, Tohsaka?" The incredulous hostility hung in the air, but Rin was unfazed.

"I never said anything like that, Margrave Gottwald. I was only stating the effect these Servants have on Britannia's current operations. And I never said that we would just 'roll over and die.' Be glad, Margrave." Rin smiled one of her characteristic impenetrable smiles. "Holy Britannia hasn't lost her teeth yet."

"Alright, look. I've accepted your premise. Hell, it's beginning to make some sense. But I'm beginning to agree with Sir Guilford, no more cryptic answers. Give us something concrete to work with, both of you-" He glared at Kayeri, then Rin. "-because my patience is at its limit."

"Something concrete? Fine." Rin smirked. "You didn't believe I'd grant your request?"

"I doubted you had something to show." Jeremiah sneered in return as he crossed his arms.

Rin motioned to Odysseus. "Odysseus, if you'd be so kind?"

He looked up in surprise. "Miss Tohsaka, is this really necessary? I thought your explanation was extraordinarily clear. I enjoyed it."

"Well, others don't seem to think so. I think your demonstration would be quite convincing."

"But Father said-"

"My Prince. The Emperor's subjects- your subjects- need to realize what's at stake here."

"Oh, alright. If I must."

Britannia's Gentle Giant stood, his heavy frame rising wearily.

He was the focus of attention of the room, but he didn't meet any of their glances.

His left hand was lifted slowly, steadily. It was marked with an emblem of a strange geometry, marked with the sign of a Master.

"Rider, come forth."

* * *

><p>The world opened its doors to the rolling rumble of war.<p>

An invisible portal opened, revealing the presence of Rider where there was nothing before.

Each pointed tap of the commander's step was struck with immeasurable discipline, with inestimable loss, with incalculable legacy.

Saltpeter and charcoal, cordite and dynamite, thermite and plastique. These scents accompanied the soldier's slow march into the room.

Steel, blood, and smoke emanated from his person.

Here stood a soldier, a commander, a leader, a veteran, a father.

Here was a being explained away with targeting optics, a subdermal man-machine interface, cross-comms broadcasting, and a mind filled with firing solutions and the tactical history of the greatest nation in the world.

Here was a heroic spirit of a modern mold, a witness to the age where heroes could no longer stand with the advancements of the age, where their deeds were found lacking, in harsh contrast to the achievements of technology.

Here was a Servant.

Turning directly to Clovis and Odysseus, he snapped a perfect salute, barely touching the brim of his cap.

He was dressed in full uniform, but it wasn't a uniform of any recognizable nation. A gold lanyard fell on the right of his deep blue coat, from his gold rank insignia and tucked under his arm. Save for a single badge and the line of gold buttons down the center, the coat was unadorned. It didn't need to be encased in strips of metal to convey the authority this man had. His height and his broad build further emphasized that. With blue trousers and a brimmed and branched service cap, he looked every bit the commander he was.

He announced his presence with a strong voice, with tempered confidence.

"Rider, General of 4th Armored."

His hard gaze fell on the rest of the room.

* * *

><p>Nobody spoke. The palpable awe remained for a minute.<p>

It was an absurd occurrence. A man had stepped out of air, surely a trick of mirrors or holographics. The smell probably came from someone burning a tank shell's innards. The natural first impulse was, "This is fake."

But to what end? Why play a charade at all?

This was the clash between acceptance and disbelief.

The argument that both Brant and Tohsaka forwarded was full of holes. Reason and logic dictated it was so.

And even the "miraculous" materialization of this noble figure would have been dismissed, were it not for one simple fact.

Immortals existed. The miracle of immortality was real.

And if extending life was achieved by Britannia, surely shortening life was a simple matter of reversal.

However, the EU obtained that power first. An unparalleled weapon that could end Britannia with only a few decisive strikes.

And yet …

Here, Britannia's First Prince called a Servant into this room. And if this Servant was real ….

The only option was hope.

And that led to the inevitable conclusion.

Belief.

Then, a single lady stood, her blonde tresses falling to her sides as her hand swept up in a fluid, powerful motion to her brow.

"Sir!"

Colonel King performed the natural course of action. She saluted her superior officer.

Her action galvanized the rest of the room to follow suit.

The only exceptions were two notable figures.

Jeremiah Gottwald and Rin Tohsaka.

Jeremiah still sat slack-jawed.

For the hour that they were talking about Servants and children and augmentations, he had opposed the idea with all his being. It simply couldn't be real. To have machines make a man Pure? The idea stood against all he stood for, all the Purists stood for.

"You can't be real …"

Impassively, Rider looked upon the Margrave.

"You salute the rank, not the man, Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald."

"No." Jeremiah blurted the denial out, the further vocalization of his disbelief. "I won't salute a- whatever you are."

He tried to collect himself, but Rider's penetrating voice halted him in his tracks.

"When one side only of a story is heard and often repeated, the human mind becomes impressed with it insensibly. I am a member of the brink of fate that human nature resisted, that human nature won against. I intend to reclaim that fate. I have committed my entire existence to aiding Britannia in that regard, and I have been recognized for it."

Jeremiah sneered. "This is just something cooked up by Brant and Tohsaka. Cheap fraud won't convince me, 'Rider.'"

Rider frowned. "I understand."

He began his stride towards Jeremiah. "I will acknowledge that a slender acquaintance with the world must convince every man. That all a man can hope for during his lifetime is to set an example. That when he is _dead_-"His boots clicked on the ground with an ominous intent. "-he can hope to be an inspiration for a history respected by his friends. That actions, not words, are the true criterion of the attachment of his friends. The most liberal professions of good will are very far from being the surest marks of it."

Rider was standing directly over the seated Jeremiah. "I know what I am fit for. I can command a body of men in a rough way. Allow me-"

"Rider, stop." Odysseus walked over to him, matching Rider's deadpan expression with a gentle, dull smile. "This isn't necessary."

Master and Servant stared at each other. Slowly, the Servant reeled himself back. "Hm … As you wish, Master."

As Rider stepped back, Odysseus addressed Jeremiah. "Margrave Jeremiah, I'm beseeching you to acknowledge Rider's command. We've wasted enough time arguing. We just don't have time to discuss politics. Let's move on, shall we?"

As he ended, Odysseus caught Rider's eye and shook his head. Rider acknowledged Odysseus's gesture with an almost imperceptible nod.

The Margrave was still trying to process his Prince's request. He was being asked by the Emperor's successor to recognize this farce.

_Why? Why is he doing this?_

_I loathe conceding to Numbers, but I'll let them have their victory now._

_I'll find out what they have over my Prince._

Jeremiah responded to the reprimand with a hesitant salute of his own. "Sir."

Rider touched his cap. "At ease."

"Good, we have that-" Odysseus noticed Rider staring at a corner of the room. "Rider?"

Wordlessly, Rider approached the corner, near the still-standing Rin Tohsaka.

He held out his hand to it.

"Good day to you, Archer."

* * *

><p><em>… <em>

_King of Nations, do you have enough salutes?_

He gripped the proffered palm, and Archer drew himself into reality.

The shock of white hair, the black shades, the body armor, the dark overcoat. If Rider was a commander, this man was a soldier. As contemporary as Rider's uniform was, however, Archer's called to a strange integration of futuristic and classical. With only his shades and his armor, he could have easily been called a well-paid, well-armored private military contractor. But there were little flourishes, such as the overcoat in the end of summer, or the badges and straps that decorated it. It was practical, with just enough of a signature to mark Archer as unique.

It was actually underwhelming. Practical wear doesn't do much to indicate a person's qualities as a post-modern, trans-human super-soldier.

Perhaps that was what Archer was looking for.

Rider shook his hand heartily. "A pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise." Archer returned the greeting with a flash of smug content and an equally firm, if less vigorous, grip.

"When these pleasantries are over, I would like to enjoy a cup of tea with you. This terrible War business …"

"… I'd appreciate that, but I have to attend to my Master's concerns." Archer looked meaningfully at Rin.

Rin suddenly became aware of the room's focused attention on her.

"You can't be serious …" But before Jeremiah's skepticism could fully manifest, it was stopped by Mackenzie's hand on his shoulder.

"Hm. It's strange, but it makes sense." She viewed Rin in a new light. "I guess I underestimated you. So who is your Servant, Tohsaka?"

"… Archer."

She didn't receive the same dignified silence that Odysseus's calling of Rider got.

The silence that greeted her statement was tense and critical.

It was only Mackenzie who gained a modicum of respect for Rin. Bartley and Jeremiah were staring in shock. Lloyd and Guilford were simply unreadable.

_Which was to be expected. But I don't want to address any questions about my heritage._

To Rin's surprise, it was Guilford who stood and spoke to her.

"This is it, right? You're not making this up." He looked pained, but calm. "That's the only reason Prince Odysseus would stand with you. It's all real."

She nodded.

The pain vanished, and Guilford's attitude became resigned. "Then … Then Cornelia would put priority on finding this Servant and its Master. Britannia comes first. That's why you have the Emperor's sanction, Director Brant. Am I right?"

Brant responded with a touch of restraint. "That's correct, Sir Guilford-"

"Then let me apologize for my affront." Guilford bowed. "I let my anger and desire for vengeance cloud my judgment."

"Apology accepted." It was a strange feeling, but Brant felt sorry for the fallen knight. _I can at least throw the dog a bone._

He pulled out a red folder from his briefcase. "I know we have our differences, but I'm willing to offer the Glaston Knights participation in this investigation. I believe that we have something on the Princess's murder. This was the only non-military personnel in close proximity to the G-1 Base."

The new picture on the table was picked up by the knight. "He looks like an Eleven."

"He isn't. Which brings me to my next point-"

* * *

><p>C:\C\PROXY\WilhelmPDA record<p>

Iknowwehaveourdifferencesbut ImwillingtooffertheGlastonKn ightsparticipationinthisinve stigationIbelievethatwehaves omethingonthePrincesssmurder Thiswastheonlynonmilitaryper sonnelincloseproximitytotheG 1Base.

HelookslikeanEleven

HeisntWhichbringsmetomynextp oint

WARNING. THREAT LEVEL FROM: OSIA11A == HIGH

resolving threat …

PROTOCOL STABLE

continuing record

* * *

><p>C:\OSIA11A\NetSEC alert<p>

INTRUDER DETECTED

* * *

><p>Kayeri's phone rang.<p>

"Of all the blasted …" He glanced down at the screen. "Ah."

"What is it, Director?" Guilford looked confused.

It was as if a switch was flicked in Brant's head. He smiled.

"A delightful turn of events." Kayeri clapped his hands together. "My agents have more evidence in Forensics. I'd like to take all of you on a short tour. Would it be satisfactory if we are dismissed, Prince Clovis?"

Rubbing his eyes, the prince looked at his PDA. Well, the PDA he accidentally took from Wilhelm when he switched the two on the nightstand last night. It was 2:40 in the morning. "Very well, but I'm going to sleep. Tell me about it later. Thank you, all."

Save for Odysseus, the room stood at attention as he left, escorted by Bartley. As soon as the door closed, Kayeri's expression hardened.

"Noble, I want that trace now."

His agent was already typing away on his laptop. "Toshima. North of Shinjuku, Brant."

Mackenzie had only seen that expression on Brant's face seven years ago, with her father. "What's going on, Kayeri?"

"OSI NetSEC just detected a hacker on Prince Clovis's PDA. She heard everything that we said." Kayeri turned to address both Mackenzie and Jeremiah. "I need a contain, quick and quiet."

Before Jeremiah could refuse, Mackenzie replied. "Of course, Brant. I'll have my men ready in five."

Jeremiah opened and closed his mouth wordlessly before finding his voice. "Why us? We're Purists. Why not the regulars?"

"The Prince has been compromised. We don't know what other elements of his forces could be tapped. I'd trust your men over them."

"Nice to know you have faith in us." Jeremiah raised an eyebrow, but he got up. "I'll rouse my men up. Maybe you are competent after all, Brant."

_More like I have faith in King_.

He turned to the ASEEC and Odysseus. "We'll handle it from here. You all should get some rest. We can't have Britannia's Persons of Mass Destruction combat ineffective, right?"

Odysseus smiled. "I can see why my father chose you to head up the investigation. Thank you, Director." He and Rider both turned to face Rin and Archer. "I look forward to working with you."

Rin shook his outstretched hand, hers almost engulfed by his palm. "While it lasts."

Rider had to laugh at that one. "Indeed, miss." He saluted both Master and Servant. "I hope that the next time we meet, it will be on a battlefield by your side. Let us animate and encourage each other, and show the world that the damned Grail belongs for the purchase of heroes, not scoundrels."

Archer's returned acknowledgment was more casual. "What makes you so sure that I'm a hero, Rider?"

Again, Rider laughed. "May I be so bold as to ask you a personal question, Archer?"

"You can be bold, but I won't guarantee an answer."

"Good. What is your wish?"

Rin did a double take. "That's no question to ask of-"

"Hmm. How about world peace?"

That caught Rider off guard. Odysseus and Rider stared blankly in dumbfounded silence at Archer.

Rin, however, could barely contain her laughter. Archer gave her a severe look. It was quickly replaced by an uneasy, timid expression.

"I knew you would laugh … Well, there is no meaning in salvation by the deeds of others. Let's just call this a funny story."

Rider didn't respond immediately. He just joined Rin in laughing at the absurd answer. But he paused, just enough to speak briefly to Archer.

"Remember this, Archer. One man with courage is the majority, and the price of your wish is eternal vigilance. Though with those dark spectacles of yours, it's a wonder you can see at all." With that, he bowed. "I do declare, I believe I destroyed an enemy today when I made him my friend."

His rich, deep merriment faded away as he and Odysseus left.

Lloyd and Suzaku were about to follow suit, but Suzaku noticed Rin hanging back. He was about to turn back, but she shook her head. "I'll talk to you later."

The door closed again, and this time the room was clear for more clandestine, magus talk.

"What is it, Brant? Make it quick."

He shook out his briefcase. Intricate engravings in concrete, circles in triangles, in squares, in triangles, in bizarre, indescribable geometries.

"Summoning Circles. We found thirty of them in Shinjuku."

It was rushed, but Rin got the picture.

"Thirty-? You really think that a magus revealed himself to the resistance?"

"I'm more worried about the involvement of thirty families. If they're going to draw even from the bottom of the barrel for magi, then they're desperate for participation in the Grail War."

"Hm. I should tell Kotomine-"

_No, that's not a good idea._ "We'll handle it. Get some rest, Tohsaka. Just thought you'd like to know."

"… Alright. I'll leave it in your capable hands, Brant." Rin suddenly yawned, covering her mouth. "Excuse me."

"Is that sarcasm from the impeccable Tohsaka? Go tend to your pilot. He'd love a lady's company." Brant chuckled at his own joke, but the humor was short-lived. "Good work today. Any questions on today's performance?"

"I had one, but I already answered it. Purists and Servants … Hm. Even though it's a lie, you should take care of this hacker. Until next time." And she left, her Servant vanishing back into astralization.

Brant watched her leave with a bit of surprise. He didn't expect to be scolded by her.

"… Right, back to work …" Brant plugged into the comgrid, his comset active with the OSI's defensive network, NetSEC. "Give me a complete sitrep on how the hell this happened. Shut Toshima down."

"Yes, my lord!"

* * *

><p>"What did you think, Kururugi?"<p>

"I'm a bit confused, Tohsaka-sensei."

"Now you know what I have to go through. You should be grateful that you know the truth."

"The truth doesn't seem much better."

"… Hmm, it doesn't. It's much worse." She sighed. "That's the price of being a magus."

"… Why? Why are you doing this? I don't understand why you would want to pursue something if it's so terrible."

She stopped, and Suzaku almost bumped into her. Her eyes met his when she spun around.

She took a breath, exhaled, and then took another.

"Suzaku Kururugi, will you be able to commit yourself to a war that you cannot win? Are you willing to be a single weapon in Britannia's Grail War?"

_In my Grail War?_

This was the most unreadable that Rin Tohsaka ever was. Suzaku simply could not see past the veil in her eyes.

_Is she a person of honest means, of good will?_

_I'm not. _

_That's why-_

_That's why I can help her. Because every cause I create is tainted. _

_Because I have to adopt a cause, rather than making one for myself._

_If you're alive, Lelouch … you'd approve, if you knew everything. You have Nunnally. Your cause is for yourself, which is for her._

_I guess I have to ask myself again … Is she a good person?_

Suzaku had his answer ready.

"I'll commit myself to your war. That's the most I can offer."

…

"Then, Kururugi-kun, I expect you to be up by 1000 today. We have my war to prepare for."

* * *

><p><span>Notes<span>:

Alright, so even with the vast base of wiki materials, the VN (at least, Mirror Moon's translation) is kinda confusing about what magecraft, magic, and sorcery is. For one, "A circuit to connect the spiritual and the real. We call the result of this, the many mystic occurrences it has made real, magic." That's from Rin's summoning of Archer. But the wiki materials (which quite a few people read more than playing the VN) call this magic "magecraft," and what Rin refers to sorcery "magic." So please, if you have any comments about this to clarify, do tell. I'm guessing it's just the differences in translation, but I could be wrong. Honestly, I'm sticking with magecraft and magic, because magecraft is explicitly performed by magus (well, it's in the name, "_mage_craft"), while magic is akin to the magic of old. Sorcery has more connotations with raising spirits, a bit too specific for what magic is in Nasuverse, the creation of miracles.

And yeah, Rin is a bit harsher/harder than in F/SN. It's somewhat intentional, due to the nature of her occupation. Honestly, Rin and Suzaku's characterizations were very difficult for me to write. I did end up straying a bit from canon because of Rin's involvement with the Britannian Military, and Suzaku's thoughts being one of a conflicted moral psychopath who's being thrown into a world completely unfamiliar to him. They do share quite a bit of trauma, given … well, you'll find out. I'd appreciate any advice/comments on improving characterization.

Concerning aces becoming commanders, such as Sir/General Guilford (who, admittedly, is a knight), General Darlton (whose combat proficiency is far more evident than his strategic prowess), I thought it rather reasonable for a knightmare/jet ace like Mackenzie King to be near the ranks of general. If you haven't noticed, she's a rather significant tie-in to Fate/Zero Eos. Pay close attention to her involvement (and well, all of the OCs' exploits).

The whole supersoldier scene is a fairly obvious front, designed to put the powerful and influential Purist faction off guard. There are a load of references in there, and the first few (I'll be the judge of how many is "few") person who catches ALL OF THEM in the section WILL GET A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NEXT CHAPTER. I believe that there are at least three.

By now, you should be able to guess who Rider is. Or can you?

The whole "hacking" bit is complete bs. It's simply command-line/prompt tracing. I didn't really want to write out a full techy hack scene, because that's not the focus of this chapter. It's just enough to demonstrate what's going on in the macro level of the computer infiltration.

* * *

><p><span>Extras<span>: Deleted Scene.

_Why is she pretending?_

_Everyone knows that magic doesn't exist. Magus? Spirits? What is this about?_

_She mentioned reality a lot. Maybe she's trying to separate my defeat from reality. _

_So I should play along. She obviously put a lot of work into this to make me feel better. I guess even Tohsaka likes to pretend once in a while._

"Pffft."

Rin tilted her head. "Kururugi-kun, what was that?"

"Heh." Suzaku felt like that wasn't enough. His amusement grew from a chuckle to a full on torrent of laughter.

Rin's demeanor shifted as Suzaku laughed, from contentment from his apparent understanding, to confusion as she played with one of her twin-tails, to disappointment when she realized that Suzaku was completely serious about his laughter, to-

"Hooo-" Suzaku drew a deep breath. "That's pretty funny, Tohsaka-sensei. For a moment, I almost took you seriously. Magic and spirits … If I didn't know you better, I would have mistaken you for someone out of a mahou shojou. Thanks for making me feel better."

There was no reply.

"… That _was_ a joke, right? Tohsaka-sensei?"

He looked up.

Rin glowered at him.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes were narrowed, and her mouth was pursed in an expression of severe, severe annoyance.

"Archer."

_Swords._

_There are swords in my-_

Suzaku keeled over, clutching at the bloody patch between his legs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Eurggghhh. I feel terrible. I hate making you wait. I hate writing exposition chapters. The question I fear is "Was this necessary? Seriously?" And the answer I have is "It wasn't." I could have easily leapt into the "next day." But I decided to take a leaf from Code Geass's book, and to show the "behind the scenes" of the other side. I apologize if this isn't quite what you guys expected, but I always felt like I didn't give the pro-antagonists enough attention.

Sleepless (the name of this chapter, if you don't recall. Heheheheh.) is 50% written during the hours of 2-4am. That's all my job allows. I've also been designing things (vague? It's kinda classified.), playing f/sn, and working a 10 hour a day job. Busy? Yes. Dedicated to this fic? HELL YES.

On to replies to reviews.

**Vegeta the 3rd, Aiur, AngrySanto: **I believe that I sent you all PMs some time in the past. I won't include them here because they do have hints and personal content, as well as redundant information. Thank you for your input. You drive this fic to new heights. I deeply apologize for the brief note, but you will get your due in the next chapter.

**1412 karasu:** You deserve special mention. However, that comes next chapter. I apologize for the brevity, but the next chapter is a direct continuation of this one, and everything I want to say to you contains spoilers. I hope you can accept this excuse as an apology.

**HopelessRomanticist: **Gotta love your profile pic. Yes, d'aaaaaawwness will continue to ensue, but be warned. Don't expect it to last (it never does in any drama …). It's not all gloom, though. Just wait and see.

**Sephiroth12285: **Don't worry too much about Sakura. Shinji has a stress relief valve. I'll be sure to visit your fic as soon as I'm able to. I'm just a bit busy …

**Fangking2:** Thanks for the save. I completely forgot that Schneizel was the second prince. About the servants, nice guessing, but you're just a bit off. Good try, though.

**Gaff Gafgarion: **Yep, I put in a ton of effort for that interaction. It was tough, drawing from a real-life experience, but I'm glad it turned out well. I'm also very happy that Lelouch's voice in Shirou's head sounded like … well, Lelouch. It may occasionally be tilted towards Shirou's ideals, but that's just Shirou's voice interjecting. Their shenanigans that made them friends will show up pretty soon, and is actually a pretty big plot point.

**Slayer End**: Well, whether Saber sees herself as a sword in that divisive regard remains to be seen, but Matt 10:34 is an excellent quote nonetheless.

**Vegeta the 3rd**: Good lord, I think I totally forgot to read your review. Erm. You actually managed to extract more than I intended. I meant for Shinji to have a bit more depth than his f/sn counterpart, but hearing you say it made it a lot more real. Shirou is always in need of slice of life, and you showed me a lot more than I realized how much he needed it. Funnily enough, the atmosphere was lighter because of the addition of the CG cast. With just the f/sn cast, the atmosphere's only relief is Fuji-nee.

Suzaku vs. Shirou is going to be loaded with subtleties. They're made of the same character mold, but they're quite different in many regards. I won't reveal any spoilers, but look for the contrast in later chapters.

**reality deviant**: Thanks for the faves! Vortigern is going to be a central part of the plot. Though Lelouch won't know who she is.

**MisterSP:** I can't say much about the Saber/Lelouch convos, simply because of spoilers. There are at least ten planned out, so each will feed off of each other. About Britannian Christianity … The Church would control the largest part of Britannia Christendom, Area 6. Catholicism would be the most widespread religion there, its population numbering hundreds of millions. As for Anglicism, the Emperor would never accept any religious titles, unless only if the God that he accepts is one of natural selection. Even then, it isn't really a Christian religion, but a deistic survival of the fittest.

**Chronodekar:** I WILL NOT GIVE UP. NO MATTER HOW SLOW, OR HOW LONG, I WILL ONLY STOP IF I DIE. I owe you readers that much.

**Dick Rash**: You flame so hard dat shit cray.

In all seriousness, I'd like to know why you were annoyed. Hardly any plot appeared in chaps 1-4. I do see your point for some of the vague descriptions. I've always intended this to be a long-term, read-and-see-the-nuances type of fic. I try not to fall into immediate gratification territory, and that's why I wrote a bit directly on what was happening, without explaining the situations. So, I think they helped the fic. I don't see the point of action without suspense, but I can see how someone can be confused. Thank you for your critique.

**Atrile:** YES THE PREQUEL. Any comments on this fic, perchance?

Now, I have a question. I noticed that my writing style has improved over the chapters, from a prototype first five chapters to several massive chapters due to schedule delays. Would you like to see a revision of previous chapters, or just continuous updates that add on to the story? I feel like I should revise the previous chapter to be up to par with the latest ones (and there are several mistakes, typos, and inconsistencies that need to be fixed), but the story is taking a lot of time. I'd appreciate any advice you'd have on this.

And one last note:

I highly recommend reading FATE:ZERO EOS, the companion fic to this one. It's brilliant. Read it, it seriously needs some love. To be frank, there's a big reason why my friend and I don't go into original stories. It's you guys. I definitely don't intend to sound whiny, or beggarly, but ~100,000 words and 25 reviews to show for it is a little discouraging, even for the most avid writer. Please, support F:ZE. If I have to beg, I will, but it'll be worth it if my friend can see what you have to say, good or bad.

The link, to F:ZE.

fanfiction s/7996190/1/Fate_Zero_Eos

Thank you. As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Read and Review, please. And if I may be so bold, a reminder of what I'd like to see in a review (PRIZES FOR FEATURED INFO in reviews are in **bold**).

Favorite part (character, plot, interaction, etc.). **Character Creation Entry **(rules in chapter 5, roughly 5 slots left). **Supersoldier References** by 9/8/12 (you get a sneak peek of the new chapter, I'll take it on faith you didn't cheat). Your favorite CG or f/sn merchandise (what? I want to know what's out there).

AND HEY DON'T FORGET FATE:ZERO EOS.

HeavyValor out.


	18. Interlude 1: Sleepless: Part 2

Interlude 1: Sleepless Part 2

12 August 2017 a.t.b., 0300 hours

Toshima, Area 11

* * *

><p>All it takes is a single imprint to hunt down your digital shadow.<p>

It's a common fear in the modern day. The internet has countless tales of fraud and theft via the digital record.

For the institutions of the government, the threat is not so pressing. Peacetime only draws the bored and the malicious, not the truly motivated. Defacing a web page now and then is the best that most can do.

To hack into a system, be it analog or digital, requires persistence. Talent only gets you so far. Time makes up the difference, what with experience and the prodigious library of bugs, worms, and viruses a hacker can accumulate over his years.

A DDOS and a shell insertion are the most basic tools of the hacker. And yet, they remain the most used.

The true hack is the result of carelessness. A back door is just a snippet of code that neglected to prompt for a password at the right moment. An entire email mailbox can be extracted by chugging out an n permutation solver for the password. Convenience is the best weapon of a hacker, as well as a hacker's downfall.

Just as it takes a single missing line of code to break down a mutating firewall, a hacker's security can be broken by a single oversight.

* * *

><p>3:00AM<p>

Kingfish00: Magecraft? Servants? This sounds like one of those visual novels that /a/ keeps bringing up.

Wearenot###: at least there aren't vampires or killers that see death

xXDeadPrincesXx: it does make sense

xXDeadPrincesXx: britannia has built enough training programmes for EU, the federation, and their militaries combined.

xXDeadPrincesXx: i'd think it'd be for some supersoldier thing

xXDeadPrincesXx: why wouldn't they be scared of one scratch-built from the EU with that power?

Wearenot###: Atlantic, you for real? Is this really legit?

DeepAtlantic: It's real.

DeepAtlantic: Uploading clip now.

+ Upload in progress …

+ Upload 100%.

…

…

…

3:10 AM

xXDeadPrincesXx: that was brilliant

Kingfish00: Well, Atlantic, you have my congratulations. You have merchandise of value.

Wearenot###: Fraps and quality are surprisingly good. I agree with fish and Princes. Princes, you have anything from your sources?

xXDeadPrincesXx: Atlantic's first comments on supersoldiers isnt as crazy as it sounds

xXDeadPrincesXx: there doesn't seem to be a pattern at first

xXDeadPrincesXx: but when you hear that Treadstone was involved with a guy named Bourne

xXDeadPrincesXx: it looks like something starts to fit

xXDeadPrincesXx: you see what im getting at?

DeepAtlantic: Are you saying that there's a pattern? Rebirth, Enfantes, Treadstone- Bourne, Immortals?

xXDeadPrincesXx: look at how much shit Britannia went through to get at Treadstone. Darwinian supersoldier? please.

xXDeadPrincesXx: they went from chem and rad to messing with peoples minds.

xXDeadPrincesXx: why do you think they wentfor knightmares? biology didn't work

Wearenot###: smells like horseshit conspiracy theories to me.

Wearenot###: we're connecting dots that are at worst completely coincidental and at best something from a bad scifi novel

xXDeadPrincesXx: try occhams razor the simplest solution is the correct one

Kingfish00: Maybe so. Britannia's been obsessed with the Darwinian imperative to improve the human condition.

Kingfish00: Posthumanism is fairly plausible once you accept that Britannia has already dedicated a vast quantity of its resources towards the goal.

Kingfish00: They've focused at creating "homo superior," and if your info is true, then they've explored all possible routes towards H+. Chemical, irradiative, genetic, psychological, sensory, and vital alterations. All of these so-called augmentations seem to be aimed at increasing operational life and effectiveness of the subjects.

Kingfish00: "Life" seems to be a fitting theme.

DeepAtlantic: Then how do Servants and Masters fit in?

xXDeadPrincesXx: they're EU, right?

xXDeadPrincesXx: so it wouldnt follow brit convention.

3:15 AM

Kingfish00: EU convention never dealt with supersoldiers, though. Why would they be involved with it now, and be more advanced than Britannia's Immortals?

Wearenot###: This is interesting but it's all speculation about the past

Wearenot ###: EVEN IF ITS REAL there's a bigger problem

Wearenot ###: the more important question:

Wearenot###: How would a war with the EU would turn out?

Wearenot###: If they already have Servants in Area 11, then Britannia has to respond by deploying Immortals.

Wearenot###: But Immortals aren't made for stopping WMDs. Then what can Britannia do?

Kingfish00: I would guess that they'd have to follow that girl Tohsaka's advice. Do they have their own Servants?

DeepAtlantic: Yeah, but they only have two.

Wearenot###: Well, they never said what the numbers of Servants were. For all we know, it could be 4 or 400 on the EU side.

Kingfish00: I think it's more that these Servants are undetectable. They're perfect for terrorism.

Wearenot###: Oh, I see..

Wearenot###: Britannia's military isn't suited for hunting down only two people in an entire Area. And if one can take down a next-gen knightmare, then Britannia is in some real deep shit.

Kingfish00: Exactly. All the EU needs is one to destroy Pendragon.

Wearenot###: Then why don't they do it?

Kingfish00: Britannia would crush EU's military. A direct attack on Britannia would result in Britannia cutting off all Area Eleven's sakuradite from the EU and an invasion of an unprecedented scale. The EU would face Britannians from the MEF and across the Atlantic. There's also no guarantee that the Chinese Federation wouldn't attempt to invade as well.

Wearenot###: So they'll just sit tight.

Wearenot###: Atlantic, how are things on your end?

Atlantic: I'm uploading the rest, brb.

xXDeadPrincesXx: are you going for another dive?

xXDeadPrincesXx: take me with you?

DeepAtlantic: Wait your turn, Princes. I don't need a wingman just yet.

DeepAtlantic: ttyl in 5 min.

* * *

><p>Her third pen cracked immeasurably between her teeth, but it was enough for her to toss it away. She was going to have to run out for more after going through her supply after this sort of surveillance.<p>

_… Yeah, I'll do it when I really need to._

She tossed out the shell. Flexing her fingers, she resumed her digital assault on less-protected mainframes. She scoured the databases for any information about the completely insane discussion between the most powerful people in Area 11.

"smells like horseshit conspiracy theories to me." That much was true.

_Code R was one thing. But this?_

_There's absolutely nothing here to corroborate what that girl Tohsaka said. Nothing on the internet, nothing in their databases. Did she lie?_

_No, the Prince and the Director of OSI backed her up._

_But if this was real, then why do the Purists need to know? If the EU already has the majority of these 'Servants,' why haven't they defended the MEF or invaded Area Eleven?_

_Why aren't there ANY records of Rin Tohsaka in the Britannian mainframes? For that matter, why is an Eleven so respected? _

_I can buy Treadstone. It's already an internet legend. Immortals too, with that video clip from the Second Pacific Incident. Servants …_

_The boys online are clueless too. Already, they're nerdgasming-_

_Gaaaahhhh. I need to rest. It's been 30 hours already._

She replayed a clip, sliding up her quarter-inch thick glasses before they fell off of her nose.

C:\C\BlackC\08122017

+ camera 1 1:47:00

… "Rider, General of 4th Armored."

+ filter

Nothing happened. There were no layers changed, no digital effects.

+ camera 2 1:47:23

She watched the back of the room.

_It's actually as if he appeared out of thin air._

_…_

_This puzzle won't beat me._

_Let's say this was all true. _

_Cornelia dead, two ubermensch- no, they're not men, they're something else- here with a super robot to investigate._

_One 'Servant' that did this damage. That's who they suspect._

_Who has that Servant? The Japanese? The EU? Both?_

_But …_

_Well, whatever. I'm diving back in._

The whirr of the processors in her custom desktops and the taps of her two favorite keyboards soon filled her ears.

Her instructions soon began to fill the command prompts of her three partitioned drives.

It was quite simple, actually.

Her first drive, Pacific, was her cheapest computer, her dump drive that could be tossed anytime. It acted as a shield, a mask that could lead any white hat on a merry chase when the jig was up.

Right below was Atlantic. It did defense lines, synthesizing worms and viruses that required more processing power than DDOS or e-bombs. It performed just as well as a drain, consuming all data that was ready for the taking.

Her last, C, was a 100-core beast. Pricy, but worth it. She built it during her single year at the Imperial Colchester Institute, and there was no other machine or person she was more attached to. It could outthink anything, outpacing OSI's Think Deep Blues by a full second. It was bulky, it wasn't pretty, and it dimmed the room when it ran at half-power. But it was her best, and it was her first supercomputer.

Each computer was outfitted with 32 gigs of RAM, and was serviced by two-score hard drives. They stood in rows, soldiers ready for orders.

_And I'm their commander._

Her lieutenants were prepped.

Pacific execute

P+\ understoodrunningsubroutines

Atlantic set performance == 30%

A+\ Understood.

C+ execute defense protocol + prepare data collection routines

C+\ Already done. 30% of OSI infrastructure already infected. Would you like a cup of coffee with that?

C+\ y/n?

C+ y

_Hah. I'll need that cup soon enough._

_… I'll need to work on C's social protocols._

She was ready. Finding a new PROXY host might be difficult, but all good things had to come to an end.

But she would be ablhe to get one last shot with her current PROXY.

She looked through the dossiers being searched by the agents near WilhelmPDA. The signal was dying, but she still had enough of a connection to look at the dossiers being pulled up.

C:\OSIA11A\NetSEC\Profiles ls

White Hat

Black Hat

Grey Hat

Anon

C:\OSIA11A\NetSEC\Profiles cd Grey Hat

The OSI user paused, those extra seconds allowing C to infiltrate into twenty other computers.

…

C:\OSIA11A\NetSEC\Profiles\Grey Hat cd Oceane Coupe

Oceane Coupe

_Shit. Well, that was fast. _

* * *

><p>"I want all of NetSEC up and on this. Get a team on Toshima's power grid."<p>

"Brant, how are we going to find this hacker? We got lucky with the trace, but-"

"I'm flushing her out. Agent Noble, worry about getting NetSEC ready instead."

"… Yes, sir." All Noble could do was listen to his superior officer. Noble was the lead agent of Brant's team, but he was a proficient network security operator in his own right. Perhaps Brant knew something he didn't, because George Noble didn't see a way to coax the intruder from Toshima. Hell, even her location, 'Toshima', was suspect. The signal was only detected for a few seconds before it vanished.

So Noble could be excused for wondering what his Director was thinking. What could NetSEC, a counter-cyberterrorism task force, do with the Toshima power grid?

Still, orders were orders. Noble left the room, leaving behind the jumbled mishmash of laptops and cables inside the makeshift OPCOM center.

Brant ignored the closing door, and opened Oceane Coupe's file. The screen glowed harshly on his face in the poorly-lit vehicle, but he didn't need to stare into light to know the file he had written a year ago.

* * *

><p>Name: Oceane Coupe<p>

Aliases: C, Atlantic, Pacific

DOB: 02/23/1995

M/F: Female

Activities: Hacking, Network Destruction, Cyberterrorism

Attended Imperial Colchester Institute for computer science. Was expelled during her study abroad period in Area 11 per request of Director Brant. Eluded arrest shortly after. Current whereabouts suspected to be in Tokyo Settlement.

Extremely capable with her team of hackers in digital infiltration and sabotage. Confirmed involvement with insurrectionary data trafficking, digital trespass, and aggressive destruction of high-security military networks and databases. Suspected involvement with Refrain cartels and Area Eleven resistance.

Cyber Crimes and Terrorism Unit's Notes:

Recommended course of engagement: Coupe has known ties to several hacktivist groups with severe data distribution capabilities. Hence, a protracted engagement is not recommended. A strike team and a network blackout contain will cripple her ability to dump her data to a public server. Preferred method of neutralization is non-lethal, with an emphasis on tasers and other EM weaponry to disable her electronic warfare capabilities.

FURTHER INFORMATION CLASSIFIED …

PASSWORD: …

PASSWORD ACCEPTED.

Director's Notes:

Nobody knew Oceane Coupe until two years ago. Living on the streets for most of her life, she was Colchester's first student. She spent a year researching network security and computer engineering, before her study-abroad program shipped her to Area Eleven for sakuradite chips.

She appeared on our maps when she discovered Code R. Network security protocols established by Prince Clovis were inadequate for a digital attack of the magnitude Coupe had orchestrated. Despite OSI's best investigative efforts, Coupe's identity remained a mystery until she struck again at the Narita facilities. It took an entire NetSEC group to track down her location and her identity. Before OSI agents were able to arrive on the scene, Coupe had fled. Her assets were terminated, including her enrollment in Colchester, but Coupe remains at large.

So far, her current activity appears to be limited to mere data prods, and she hasn't released any information on Code R. We suspect that she lost the majority of her equipment during our raid, unless she has some sort of strange loyalty to Britannia still reserved in her mind. At most, she's a nuisance, but an incredibly dangerous one if she decides to act on the information she has.

FURTHER INFORMATION CLASSIFIED …

PASSWORD: …

PASSWORD ACCEPTED

Hello, Oceane.

You're at Toshima, aren't you?

* * *

><p>Oceane Coupe jerked back involuntarily from the monitor. It wasn't that unexpected, but the delivery was surprising, to say the least.<p>

_I don't think there was a way Kayeri Brant could have actually found me, or any of his stooges. _

_Did they backtrace my proxy? I thought I masked myself. My ID's been spoofed throughout Area Eleven. There's no way they could have found me so quickly._

_Nothing's in my computers._

_They don't have anything on me._

_But it isn't a lucky guess. It can't be. He knows it's me, and he knows where I am. But …_

_I don't think he knows where I _am_, though. Britannian stormtroopers haven't burst through the door yet. The biggest threat I face now is a digital one. _

She began typing.

+ Pacific: set performance == 100% + firewalls

The comforting whirr of Pacific firing up its defenses gave Oceane a sense of security. She was a social outcast, weak, shunning society as much as it shunned her. Her computers were no longer tools, but her sole companions, assembled with no small pride as she up-spec'd them and networked them. Processing power that rivaled half of OSI's network infrastructure. Hungry beasts that required her to synch up directly to the remaining electric grid of Toshima. Data storage containing the records witness to the three long years she spent as a fugitive, searching for the truth of her persecution in the annals of OSI's-

She hid under the consuming sound, a luxury she enjoyed for exactly three seconds.

She switched to her main computers

+ Atlantic, C: set performance == 80%

The lights flickered. _I guess I'll pay the rent early this week-_

_Wait, there's flickering._

She looked upwards for a brief second, and slapped her forehead.

A+\ OSI has detected Pacific

* * *

><p>"And here we go."<p>

Brant leaned back in his chair, overseeing the frantic scurrying of the cranky NetSEC agents around him.

Noble and Barnes's feet were pounding throughout the command vehicle, their voices blasting orders to the technicians and operators.

"Get those power grids up!"

"Yes, I want all of Toshima. No, I don't care about company policy, this is a direct order from an OSI agent. No, I'm not a terrorist, damn you. Do it. Now."

Brant motioned for his second-in-command.

"Noble, how's it going?"

Noble wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Brant, we have a major energy drain in Toshima, 35.73 degrees north, 139.71 degrees west. We'll have a better lock in a few minutes."

"Thought she'd fall for it. Shift NetSEC for offensive duties. She's running on some of the more ridiculous hardware out there, though. I want her pinned down."

"Got it." Noble didn't even need to turn around to the NetSEC team. They had heard Brant. "What now?"

"Tell our Purist friends to hunt her down. I'll prep a data containment team. A bunch of high-schoolers, you know how it is with these typical hacker-types. All you need nowadays is a bunch of youngsters and a few computers."

"… You choose the worst times to pick up your sense of humor, Director."

Kayeri Brant, Director of OSIA11A. The man was tired. It came with the job.

They never truly had pinpointed her when they found an irregularity from Clovis's PDA. The tracing program had jumped all over Area Eleven, and only stopped at Toshima when the intruder's security chased it out.

It would have been a dead end, were it not for Brant's plan. They were waiting for her to make herself visible on the grid, and the only way for her to show up on it was by forcing her hand.

That included the physical grid. It wasn't a coincidence that Toshima's power consumption jumped by megawatts when Brant typed in those two phrases. She was pulling power enough for a city.

And they had her location, server, and IP.

Brant popped in three mints. He earned it.

* * *

><p>"… Well played."<p>

Oceane was a practical hacker. She didn't throw her hands up in despair, or slam her keyboard into oblivion.

The only thing that could affect her next course of action was the ETA of OSI's forces.

It took her only a second to peer into the deployment logs of the jury-rigged base.

_Two Purist knightmare groups? They're willing to devote that much hardware for me?_

She knew that she didn't have time to hack into the entire force. One frame was possible, but twenty?

_They're not sending in soldiers? If they're sending in knightmares …_

_Then I've found something they're willing to kill for?_

_What's that beeping?_

She peered, through her thick, clouded lenses, at the user piggybacking on her hack.

Ahhh.

OSI had the nasty habit of sending in counterhacks with terribly themed naming schemes. Three years ago, she ran into a few called Patriot, October, Bear, and Dragon. In her small community, it was an injoke that OSI's cybersecurity team read too many military fiction stories.

Apparently, OSI caught on to this and began varying the names. It didn't really change much, but Oceane doubted that they liked their literary interests derided on the internet.

P+/ THREATS DETECTED

P+/ 90% OF THREATS ELIMINATED

P+/ ATTMEPTED INFILTRATIONS INCREASING

P+/ WARNING: INTRUDER DETECTED FOLLOWING WORM IN: OSIA11A\NetSEC\Profiles\Grey Hat\Oceane Coupe

P+/ BACKTRACE INITIATED

+ Pacific: Identify Intruders

P+/ SUPERUSER: Justum

P+/ SUPERUSER: Vindictam

P+/ SUPERUSER: Ultio

P+/ SUPERUSER: HOPE

P+/ AFFILIATION: OSI NETWORK SECURITY MOBILE

P+/ CONNECTION ERROR: HOPE OFFLINE

P+/ INTRUDER THREAT RESOLVED. TARGETING REMAINING THREATS. 

_Justice, Vengeance, and Retribution. Yep, theme naming. But Hope? That's … a little out of place. C's not any better for a username, but … Hope?_

Then …

P+/ WARNING: INTRUDER DETECTED

P+/ WARNING: INTRUDER LOCATION: C:\C\BlackC\08122017

P+/ WARNING: DATA LOST: C:\C\BlackC\08122017\localcopy

P+/ BACKTRACE INITIATED

P+/ SUPERUSER: HOPE

_Damnit. This 'Hope' is tenacious. She took that four minute clip of 'Rider.' I didn't think someone outside of OSI could tell what I had._

She peered into the trace on 'Hope'. His signatures were different from the OSI- or suspected OSI.

_Hope isn't OSI. That's bad. If Hope could beat Pacific's tracking before Pacific got through, then he can find Pacific again._

This was bad. Because of that power surge, she revealed herself to the more savvy side of hackerland, from OSI to Anonymous. Though Anon wasn't the force it was hyped up to be, OSI was. This "Hope" character … If someone could see her, then her worms and proxy were compromised. Once she could be backtraced, Pacific would be detected and vulnerable to a counterattack.

Pacific was smart enough to keep out a NetSEC team for ten minutes, but after those precious minutes, Pacific would be compromised.

Bing.

And true to her fears, warnings began bursting onto her monitor. OSI's NetSEC already began its attack.

Oceane knew she only had a minute to make her decision.

She couldn't run. She wasn't going to surrender all of her equipment and data, not like this.

There was no point in running, anyways. She wasn't exactly an athlete.

So what were her options?

Surrender.

_Yeah, that seems fun. Like they'd care for a hacker who nobody knows outside of the net._

Run.

_Nope, not gonna give up my children._

Fight.

She could blow OSI wide open.

She could have her compensation for Colchester.

And, if for nothing else …

_Why not?_

Oceane pulled up her chat window.

3:20 AM

DeepAtlantic: I've been found out. Guys, I'm going for broke.

The screen remained blank, until-

Wearenot###: Firesale?

xXDeadPrincesXx: is it OSI?

Kingfish00: You're fighting?

DeepAtlantic: I'm going to dump everything in OSI into this server live.

They knew what that meant. OSI's secrets, as many as Atlantic could reach, would be streamed directly to the private server they were on. But to stream that much data live would consume roughly 30% of her processing power. And once Atlantic fell, then all that data could be tracked to the server.

In effect, Atlantic was giving up her security, her identity as a hacker, for the members of the chat.

Deep Atlantic, the stingy, selfish hacker who hoarded all of her secrets with an iron grip.

Deep Atlantic, where annals of information vanished into her shadowy depths.

Alright, maybe those descriptions were embellished by kids and grown men with white skin, too many pimples, and not enough of a social life to actually care that they were propagating an internet legend for no other reason than the Rule of Cool.

Even so, this action was uncharacteristic.

xXDeadPrincesXx: you're a boss, Atlantic.

xXDeadPrincesXx: i'll set up chain dump servers.

xXDeadPrincesXx: dont worry, you can show those pigs what a fight is

Wearenot###: I'll help Princes. You can do it.

After that, their names went dark. They were lurking, they were there, but that was all they could do.

Oceane felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.

_Heh. I guess I expected that. Kingfish already bailed-_

Her monitor blipped.

Kingfish00: Don't be a fool. You're going to need all of the help you can get if you want to escape.

She stared at those words for five seconds.

Open: Private Chat

DeepAtlantic: Kingfish, what do you want?

Kingfish00: To win. To the point you can escape unscathed. Don't you want that?

…

Now, that was surprising. She gave it some thought.

_To escape? That was never on my mind. He's right, in a way. I can only win by beating OSI, Brant, Britannia._

Oceane cracked her knuckles and stared at the long white-silver scar on her wrist down her forearm.

She remembered Colchester and the night sitting in her dorm's bathtub.

_How do you cut the ocean?_

_You can't. You just leave it be, and eventually it will cut itself._

_And Brant didn't leave me alone._

* * *

><p>An ocean of knowledge.<p>

A deluge of data. A denial of service coordinated by 164 cores, mixed with the backdoor spyware in OSI's mainframes.

Brute force wasn't her style, but a DDOS of such magnitude would be a fitting opening salvo. She would test their bulwarks. She would ready herself to destroy the dams.

The ocean was cut, cut so wide it would engulf the one who tried to penetrate it.

She didn't know it, but Oceane would hold all of Area Eleven by the throat that night.

* * *

><p>Upload: Begin: 0%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 128 minutes

* * *

><p>"Sectors Four, Five are compromised!"<p>

"She's eating through the entire mainframe! Access Controls is out!"

"Data Containment Unit is down! We're completely blind, no connection with Toshima servers!"

Brant rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up onto the table. It went to hell in seconds. What previously was an ordered column of the best network operators in Area Eleven became a mob of distressed brains packed in a command vehicle.

"Director! Director!"

Brant stared blankly at the panicked analyst from NetSEC.

"She took over our bastion host!"

The stare continued.

"She's using us to hack our own mainframe! Damn it, Brant, what are your orders?"

_I think I'll be exercising my eyes quite a bit._ "That's 'sir,' Agent Brown. Try pulling the plug. I'm going to talk to King. I'll also need a line to the Prince. Get those for me in two minutes."

"But-"

With that, Brant walked out.

* * *

><p>"Agent Seo. Or 'DreadPrinces,' whatever you're calling yourself."<p>

Snerk-"A-ah, Mr. Brant! You caught me napping!"

"I just want a favor. Can you see the end of this escapade?"

"Erm, isn't this a bit short on notice?" The Japanese girl- well, lady, but damned if anyone could tell, she looked like she was still in high school with that short haircut- frowned at the director.

"Mm. I'd have thought you'd have predicted I ask."

"It doesn't work like _that_, Brant-" She blinked. "Oh. I guess it kinda does."

"Good girl. Get that good end ready."

She smiled cheerfully. Her nodding head and bobbing sidetails had to bring a smile to Brant's face. "Yessir!"

* * *

><p>The Toshima Police Plaza's emergency line rang. A tired lieutenant responded.<p>

"You'd better have a damned good reason to call this early-"

"All units, hijacked Purist frames inbound. Engage and terminate."

"Whazzat? Damn, hijacked knightmares?"

"Be warned, all IFFs are currently malfunctioning in Toshima. Refer to OSI's Military Action Branch for target acquisition and clearance."

"Now jus' hold on a sec, who's this giving orders? I'm telling you, if this is a joke-"

"Director Brant out."

* * *

><p>"Knights Actual, we've received clearance to shut down Sakuradite Disturbers along your warpath, over."<p>

"We could use some close air support, Warhawk. Thanks for responding on such short notice."

"No problem, Colonel. We always look out for one of our own. Gunruns and airstrikes will be available in ten, over."

"Copy your last. Over and out."

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. Colonel King was enjoying herself way too much.

"What is it, Jeremiah?" Her smirk appeared on the closed channel above his HUD.

"I'm all for superior force, but even this seems a little excessive."

"We're about to attempt a contain of an entire ghetto with only twenty knightmares. We're not exactly suited for the job."

Jeremiah's group sped towards the south of the Toshima ghetto, while Mackenzie's was about to break off to enter the west. He saw her point.

There was no way in hell they would be operationally secure in that environment.

At best, knightmares were lacking substitutes for heavy armor. Their high profile and light armor made them unsuitable for open field or standard urban warfare. Ironically, they also needed open fields to use their speed, and urban environments for cover.

And their role was to perform exactly in those two theaters.

They did a damn fine job of it.

They were a rapid strike force, filling the gap between force reconnaissance and interim armored vehicles. Despite their apparent misalignment with this role, there was a reason they won the Second Pacific Incident.

That was why devicers selection numbered 20% of all applicants, and why Purists, for all their misplaced ideologies, were regarded so highly.

The knightmare was akin to a jet on the ground. The human element made the knightmare frame the most devastating weapon in Britannia's arsenal. Tank or APC aces never truly existed. With speed came a greater capacity for a man's mind to explore his weapon's destructive potential.

But verbose verbiage aside, King's point was well-grounded. A ghetto wasn't like a city. It was difficult to take cover behind tents, or maneuver on shattered concrete. A city's skyscrapers and asphalt were far better suited for a knightmare frame. Skill mattered less than luck in the ghetto. Hence, calling air support was a useful comfort.

"Still, you just happened to have an entire wing at your command right now? It's barely morning."

She had to chuckle at that. "1st Group Wing Warhawks won't forget their commander so easily. Besides, they're itching for a fight, what with these Disturbers clipping their wings."

"I see. Still, I don't like acting behind the Prince's back."

Mackenzie grimaced. "Neither do I, but Brant knows what he's doing. Would you want any of the regulars or honoraries to handle this?"

"No. I'm not entirely certain about the information, but if it's leaked to the media, true or not …" Jeremiah sighed. "By the way, what were you talking to Brant about?"

Mackenzie's expression became a curious one. It looked a little nostalgic, almost longing. "Nothing special. Old times."

"…" He was speechless. "Old times."

"Yep."

"Are you serious? Old times- You're barely 22! Unless you played together as babies, I sincerely doubt that you qualify to say you're reminiscing about 'old times. And besides, what would you have in common with him?"

"He's born from a noble line, you know. He could've been the chief of the Federation, but he decided to complete his tour with OSI."

"Watch your words, King. I wouldn't put the Iroquois anywhere near the Purists. Besides, how do you know so much about him? Wait, don't tell me … Are you interested in him?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry? He's not- The Purists would never approve- I mean, what do you see in him-"

She smirked. "What a response, Margrave Jeremiah. 'What do you see in him' seems to be insinuating something, but I can't quite place it."

Jeremiah's momentary shock had turned into a scowl. "Mackenzie, this isn't a joke. Don't kid me around like that. He may have served with your father, but he is _not_ one of us. The Party is genuinely concerned about your line."

"Which I'm perfectly capable of taking care of."

"I don't doubt that, but you could go a lot further than being a career soldier-"

"Like becoming a Margrave? That's not my calling."

"I'm not saying that, but even in a command position, you-"

Jeremiah's reply was cut short by a burst of chatter from Mackenzie's side.

"Oy, Mack! We're about to break off!"

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. "Mack?"

"Unit cohesion. Your boys don't call you Jerry?"

"No."

Mackenzie shook her head disapprovingly. "You're so uptight. See you on the far side. Give Kewell my regards."

"Will do. I'll see if I can set up a perimeter, cut off any escape routes. But don't think you're getting away from this. We'll continue this conversation later."

"Copy." Mackenzie moved her hand up to close the channel, but she paused. "Hold up, incoming OSI transmission. Patching through now."

Brant's voice stretched over the comms channel. His face was hidden in a cloud of static interference, and it was difficult to hear him.

"-kzzzhh- King, we have a fairly major situation over here. Clovis's G-1 Base and OSI facilities are under heavy cyber assault."

"Brant, where do you need us?"

A bursting sound overwhelmed Kayeri's initial response. "-repeat, we have her location, get to her ASAP. Screw the contain. Uploading coordinates now."

"Copy, Brant. Who's the HVI?"

"Oceane Coupe, Britannian cyberterrorist. Take her down, leave her alone, doesn't matter too much. Your priority one is on destroying her equipment."

Mackenzie and Jeremiah opened the file that followed.

A pale brunette in her teens stared at them through near-impenetrable glasses. Her hair was short and ragged, just like the shirt she was wearing. To be honest, if Brant didn't say that this target was female, neither one of them would have been able to tell what gender Oceane was. It was hard to believe that this short, scrawny androgynous girl was giving an OSI Director grief.

A frantic scene flickered on over the channel. "Shit, agents down, agents down! Someone get a medic in here! Shut down all computers now! Brant, we need to evacuate now!"

Two frames showed Brant's rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation. "King, be careful. You're about to lose OSI oversight. Your Purist infrastructure is separate from the Army's, so you should be safe. Find a command channel ASAP- Well, damn. She found this channel-"

The channel was shut.

Jeremiah and Mackenzie stared at each other through their HUDs. Jeremiah was the first to speak.

"I don't suppose that this is a search and destroy?"

"Looks like it. I'll set things up with our own command. If Prince Clovis's communications are compromised, then I don't want him in contact at all. You saw what happened with OSI. Changing command to our own will shield us for now."

"Hm. And we get all the glory. Not bad, Colonel."

"Glad you follow, Margrave. Scrap splitting, everyone on me. ETA five minutes, but let's make that two." King opened the channel to the entire Purist knightmare group.

"Knights, coordinates on grid. This isn't a hot ghetto, but anything that even looks like a bogey gets it. Prep weapons even with friendlies. We have a cyber in the area, so expect increased comms interference. As soon as we're in, sole contact with Purist Command, no outside comms unless you're bingo or you're punching out. I want knights on the field in two minutes! Group B will be providing overwatch. Jeremiah, take point!"

A savage grin grew on her face. "Let's nail this bitch, boys!"

The resounding reply echoed over the channel.

"Yes, my lord!"

* * *

><p>Upload: Complete: 10%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 119 minutes

* * *

><p>They raced towards the building.<p>

Residents opened their eyes to the rumble of shredded concrete and trampled tents.

The contingent of Jeremiah's fifteen Sutherlands hummed ahead of Mackenzie's unit, their red shoulders distinguishing them as Purist variants of the purple 5th-gen knightmares that were just replacing the Glasgows. They weren't just armed with the Purist normal slash harken, stun tonfa, and assault rifle package. Outfitted with sattel waffens, and three heavy 120 mm cannons, Jeremiah's squad was kitted out for long-range support.

Jeremiah's own Sutherland carried two pairs of sattel waffens, one on his cockpit and the other on his hips. Uncomfortable as he was with missiles armed on the center of his knightmare and next to his cockpit, Jeremiah acknowledged the tactical decision. Admittedly, this deviated from the Purist tradition of close-range combat, but that role was already filled by King's unit.

Glimpses of red intertwined. Crimson Halifaxes led the charge, specially requisitioned by Purist Imperial Command. Officially recognized as the heirs to Captain Owen King's 3rd Squadron.

The fact that Owen King was a disgraced Purist and the members of the force were all mudmutts was never mentioned by Purists. Seven years was enough time for the squadron, developed into a tactical development group, to gain enough accolades and honors to wipe that particular smear off the record. After the Second Pacific Incident, Purist High Command realized that the knightmare tactics Owen King developed were the forefront of modern warfare. The 3rd Squadron only existed in name after the Second Pacific Incident, its members either deceased or drawn to other positions. Because of this, it was ripe for the Purists to take and present to the Imperial Army as the prime development field for the next war's requirements. And everyone knew there would be another war.

Fitting, then, that a King returned to lead "The Wings of the King" in the next war.

True to their nature as tactical development force, Knightmare Group A was given a variety of tools to work with. Not bleeding edge, but cutting edge. Tactical development never involved bleeding a force on tools too experimental to work.

Tactical development encompassed evolving tactics from infantry, cavalry, armor, and air force maneuvers to fit the unique nature of knightmare frames. Especially important was isolating the differentiating aspects of knightmares and building a doctrine upon it. Which meant, for The Wings, an entirely new knightmare line.

Characterized by its angular, pointed chest, sharply geometric armor, and reverse-jointed legs, the Halifax was decidedly distanced from the Sutherland main line frame of the Britannian military. A first glance would have judged it to be underarmed, fitted with only a submachine gun on a leg holster and two slash harkens in its arms. But to underestimate its capabilities would leave an enemy's command little to put in a body bag.

Right now, first glances from Jeremiah's devicers didn't impress them at all. With their reverse-jointed legs and their arms folded up, the five Halifaxes behind Jeremiah looked more like armored fighting vehicles than knightmares. Even then, that parallel failed. For all of their streamlined plating and styling, the Halifaxes were cruising at 60 km/hr, forcing the majority of Jeremiah's Sutherlands to crawl 20 km/hr less than their own cruising speed.

Kewell Soresi stared at the slowly shrinking force behind the five-Sutherland point squad he, Viletta and Jeremiah were leading. He permitted his annoyance to show briefly on the HUD's channel to Jeremiah.

"Lord Jeremiah, I understand your reluctance to follow OSI's commands, but we're fully capable of finishing this ourselves."

Jeremiah nodded, but his next words disappointed Kewell.

"Lord Kewell, this is King's operation. If she wants to test tactics by adding a new model to our forces, that's her prerogative. I know we're not required to follow Brant's orders, but King requested our assistance. We help our own."

"You don't have to tell me about helping our own. Mackenzie is a family friend. My problem is that this is one of the reformed ghettos." Kewell huffed. "What help would she need? The Knight Police cleaned this area up, and they could have captured this girl sooner."

He caught a glimpse of a crippled Eleven falling, blood pooling in his attempt to crawl away from the fast-moving giants. "When we get there, it's just going to be a quiet, short capture of a girl. This isn't worth our time."

Jeremiah only caught Kewell's last lines of his complaint, and swept the area with his factsphere. "Hah, quite so, Kewell. I doubt it's going to be quiet for long."

* * *

><p>Officer Gavriel Whitfield of the Knight Police armed his 20-caliber Barrett anti-material rifle. His sergeant had pulled him out of bed, close-cropped black hair, wrinkled uniform, beer belly and all, into his Glasgow at some ungodly hour, and here he was, behind his riot-geared squadmates. Needless to say, he needed coffee, and more coffee.<p>

Except he loathed coffee. _How could something that smells so good taste so foul? _

He sipped the liquid tar with trepidation. God, he hated that shit. He was spoiled from Area Six's cacao farms, but nobody deserved this cursed black mud.

"Bleh." The taste fouled his attitude, but it got him up and moving. "What the hell is this about, anyways? What's with the hardware?" He lounged back in his cockpit, watching the five other channels of his squad. He had clambered up to the roof of the tallest building in Toshima. Which wasn't saying much, since most of the buildings in Toshima were rubble. This one only had eight stories. The crumbing five above didn't count.

Elizabeth Stabler was the first to reply, a gentle voice floating across the channel. "Brass says that there's twenty Sutherlands on the loose. Elevens performed a grand theft auto, big time."

Santo nearly spat out the coffee he was sipping. "_Twenty?_ They should have the army here for this, not the cops. Man, that must suck for the devicers who lost their frames."

A younger pilot piped up. "Yeah, since they're dead. I thought it was just five. If it's twenty, then the ten of us here won't stand a chance."

"That was the initial report, but they probably split up. Besides, I don't think brass would send us against 5th-gens outnumbered. Bet they got the army up and moving." Stabler pulled up her map on the Glasgow's HUD. "There's ten of us here, and two back at HQ. That's pretty much all the KP's knightmares in this part of Area Eleven. Stop scowling, too. You'll look even more hawkish than you normally do."

Whitfield scowled more, but let up with a bit of a smile as he stroked his nose. It had seen its share of fights, and was distinctly beaked from being broken a few times. "When I'm done here, no overtime pay from hell is going to be enough to keep me from tearing the captain a new one …"

"Some saint you are, Whitfield."

"Damn straight, Stabler. I'm the goddamn Santo Furioso."

Before Elizabeth could retort, a new channel popped up from HQ, drawing the attention of the squad. "Glad you guys are up. It's pretty bad. We've got a report from OSI that almost all of Toshima is compromised. They've ordered us to help secure one of their agents nearby and withdraw."

Stabler nodded. "Captain Vance, what about those captured knightmares? We don't have enough Glasgows or firepower to take them on."

"We've sent some M-30 tanks out. OSI says that all unidentified knightmares are hostile."

Before Stabler could reply, Whitfield's HUD began blinking. "Enemy force coming in, packing serious heat. I see five Suthies, automatic rifles, waffens, the works. I have a solution on three of them."

"Negative, do not-" Captain Vance paused, chatter on the other side of his comms interrupting him. "Yes, sir- No, I understand- Sir, with all due respect, even if we outnumber those frames two-to-one, I don't-"

A rattling sigh echoed across the channel.

"Knight Police, take them down hard. Good luck. I hope to see all of you back at the station."

* * *

><p>"Lord Jeremiah, I'm detecting ten Knight Police Glasgows in the next building up the road." Viletta Nu circled in front of Jeremiah's frame, providing cover from any frontal assault.<p>

"Raise them on comms, request their-"

The last words of Jeremiah's order were obliterated by a whipping crack, then the slam and screech of a falling Sutherland.

"Cover!" Jeremiah, Viletta, and Kewell dashed behind the wreckage of a nearby complex, the last member of their point squad caught by the second crack of an anti-material rifle aimed at Viletta's frame. His ejection pod was shredded by the hail of machine pistol fire, skidding on the ground and cartwheeling before the hatch opened. Nobody came out.

"Damn it! Knight Police, this is Margrave Jeremiah of the Purist Faction, Knightmare Group B! Cease fire at once, or we will return fire!" He cancelled the static-filled screens of the two devicers who ejected, widening his field of vision of the building that the Knight Police were occupying. "Viletta, Kewell, report."

"They're not replying. I'm reading a null on the inbound communications registry." Kewell pulled his frame closer to the protection of the concrete wall as a powdered hole was manufactured by a third crack and round. "We need to warn Mackenzie."

"Jeremiah, should we keep trying to communicate with them?" Viletta attempted to raise her factsphere above cover, but withdrew quickly to the sound of peppered snaps. Several fusillades of machine pistol fire kept her down.

"No. We have to assume that these Knight Police are traitors or terrorists. I'll get a line to Mackenzie and Grand Dragon."

"How did this happen? Our IFFs should read as allies." Viletta ratcheted the bolt back on her assault rifle, priming the rails for discharge.

Jeremiah likewise popped the lids off his sattel waffen. "I'm not worried about how, Lady Viletta. To think that Britannians or Elevens would attack the best of their species without consequence, that's what I concern myself with. We need to keep them in their hole before we're reinforced by King. Prepare to suppress those insolent bastards."

"Understood, Lord Jeremiah."

* * *

><p>Two streams of railrifle fire chased the white and blue Glasgows.<p>

Hisses turned into screams of ignition, Jeremiah's sattel waffen discharging its payload.

One missile out of ten led the pack, fired by Margrave Jeremiah. The warhead cared little that it was a Britannian missile, or that it was about to kill Britannian Knight Police. It didn't have much concern for the Purist ideals of protecting the bloodlines of the pure and powerful from the corrupting, pitiful filth that the Numbers carried. It had no idea that it was about to die in fire, a chemical reaction of medium-grade sakuradite and high explosive.

But if the missile could think, it would find the situation ironic.

Its life would be far more wondrous than any human's, short though it was. Rocketing through the night sky, glancing for the briefest moment at the stars before turning towards the target. At 90 feet, it would face the building for 0.023 seconds before the building became a blur, the sparkling shards of glass twinkling gently as its exhaust illuminated the sky for its brothers trailing behind. The black surface of the construct would be unveiled as grey concrete, the dust blown in clouds and the steel beams losing their tincture of corroded orange for a single second.

This missile would have the good fortune to travel into the building, locking onto a white and blue Glasgow with several scratches and he could hear the barely audible cry of "No, no" and a riot shield raised with a pistol drawn and the missile saw the shield that had the word Liza painted onto the side with a pair of landspinners desperately gripping the ground pulling it backwards ever backwards from the inevitable embrace-

* * *

><p>"Elizabeth-?"<p>

And the explosion blew Gavriel Whitfield's Glasgow to the floor, knocking his rifle aside. His head knocked into the side of the pod, his seatbelt preventing the worst of the impact from being focused on his cranium.

The next explosion was a sympathetic detonation of five missiles in close proximity, shattering the concrete support pillars at the fore of the building and tossing the four Glasgows behind them to the ground. That saved them, because the remaining four missiles slammed into the pillars behind them.

"All KP devicers, drop to the lower level!" Vance shouted his dread into the comm channel, the status of his team uncertain. "Give me a status report!"

"-kzzshhh- Willis, here."

"Norris, lost an arm."

"Cohen, banged up."

"-krsh-krsh-krsh- Creighton, here. Comms array damaged."

"Damon, here."

"Gordon-Levitt, here. Landspinners erratic."

"Bale-"

His transmission was cut off by an anguished cry.

"Liza- Liza, come on, respond-"

Vance spun towards his tactical display. Eight of his devicers were responsive. The only two unaccounted for were-

He grabbed his mike. "Whitfield, check in."

The static felt longer than the seconds it lasted.

"Liza- Elizabeth, talk to me! Liza- _Liza!_" These were shouts of desperation, from the frame dragging away the wrecked device of his partner. Santo's rifle laid precariously next to the edge of the building, death discarded for a protective gesture.

"Someone check in on Whitfield-"

"Sir, he's pulling Stabler back, requesting permission to assist downed officer."

"Denied, there's too much heat out there-"

Santo finally rejoined the channel, a note of relief in his voice.

"Officer secure. I'm still on the upper level, Captain. I'll provide cover here."

"Negative, get to the lower-"

"Can't do that, Liza's down. Her pod's shredded- Shit!" Bullets pinged against Gavriel's frame, echoing into the comm feed. "Captain, we need to take these fuckfaces out before their reinforcements come if we want to save her." A resounding crack punctuated Whitfield's statement.

"Damn it." The captain opened a direct channel to his officer. "Whitfield, this isn't one of the cartels you took down in Area Six. I can't have a loose cannon on my team."

"You're going to need me. There's fifteen more frames approaching."

Vance glanced at the display. A mass of dots confirmed Gavriel's assessment. He replied reluctantly. "If you're able to suppress them, do it. We're rushing in five M-30s to back you up, and we've just contacted the army. OSI just informed us that their agent needs immediate extraction, so keep them busy."

"Roger. What's ETA on the bus?"

"We can get medical assistance there as soon as the area is clear. There's a Red Wings of Purity center nearby, I'll see if I can send over one of their combat medics."

"Purity- Wait a minute." Gavriel focused in on the Sutherlands behind cover. "Those Suthies _are_ wearing Purist colors."

The squad could almost hear Vance pale. "I thought that was an error on the mission intel. Can you contact them?"

"Negative, Captain. Their channel's closed, and- damn, their IFFs say they've been hijacked."

"Great. Thought as much. Are there any vital signs from the pod?"

"Weak, but she's alive."

"Then you're going to have to hold tight for five minutes. I'm diverting more of our resources towards them. The army likewise committed several of their Sutherlands."

"Got it." El Santo Furioso gritted his teeth. "Come and get it, Tohdoh and fuckface."

* * *

><p>"King, this is Gottwald. We've been attacked by Elevens, and I've lost two men."<p>

"Number of contacts, Gottwald?"

"Ten, Soresi and Nu are currently suppressing them. Looks like hijacked KPs with riot gear and a sniper."

"Copy. Grand Dragon, is there confirmation with OSI?"

The deep voice of Dragon joined the comm channel. "Colonel, we have numerous reports that there are twenty rogue knightmares in your proximity. OSI is down, but we are receiving this information secondhand from our sources in there. Priority is placed on your security and testing of the Halifax, with Brant's directive second. Your license for _Ad Meritas Justifcatus_ is fairly open, but don't push it."

"Understood. Dragon, permission to establish a perimeter with Sutherlands and deploy Halifaxes."

"Permission granted, Halifax clearance is active. You are green for live engagement with the HDI-003s."

"Wilco, out. All Sutherlands, contain the enemy. Wings, enact high-profile combat mode. Ten bogeys in the building, weapons free on all."

"Yes, my lord!"

* * *

><p>The group of Sutherlands split, surrounding the building. As target-rich the environment was, Gavriel could not obtain solutions for any of the Sutherlands. There were too many bullets flying for that.<p>

It was only a matter of time before they would use their heavier weaponry to batter their cover into dust.

Gavriel may have been a furious saint, but not a foolhardy one. He retreated into the lower level, over tenuously provided by the intact floor of the seventh floor.

"Damon, how's Stabler doing?" He swerved over to the barricade formed by the riot shields that his squad was armed with. The pod of Stabler's frame was opened, and her profile was barely visible in the darkness.

"Stabler's stable. What's the status up there, Gave?"

Whitfield smirked wryly. "Bastards got us surrounded. I counted three cannons, eight missile launchers, fifteen Suthies in all. It's not pretty."

"Well, all we have to do is sit tight and wait for backup, right?"

"I hate to break it to you, but the KP's tanks aren't going to do jack squat, and the army needs ten more minutes to get their asses up and off the ground. We're the only force available that stands a chance against these guys." With that, Gavriel released his rifle and drew his machine pistol and anti-knightmare knife, spinning both once before crossing the knife over the pistol in a tactical CQC stance. "Use your cover. It won't last long, but we're a lot faster than those loaded Suthies."

A few of the pilots looked dissatisfied, and Gavriel knew why. These were Purist variants, and they weren't like the army's knightmares. If they dumped their loadout, a Purist Sutherland would put up a nasty fight in close-quarters with their stun tonfas. The Knight Police specialized in riot and dispersion tactics, with an unparalleled focus on knife fighting. Their anti-knightmare knives were from the Special Operations Group, surplus knives from CQC trials. They were inbuilt into the forearms with titanium edges, sturdy enough to slash into a Sutherland's armor, and with a deep serrated bite in on the backdraw to rip apart the wires and circuitry of their targets. One solid hit to a joint would cripple any knightmare.

Their Glasgows weren't the war machines their Sutherland siblings were, but they were agile enough to have a significant advantage in close-quarters. But the Purists, with their funding and unwieldy, obsolete traditions, afforded its knights stun tonfas and the training to make any sort of approach to knife range a dangerous prospect. The stun tonfas were tactically superior with their longer reach and discharge capacities. Still, one-on-one, a Knight Police officer would best a Purist, but not without significant electronic damage to his control and mobility systems. Even if the Purist Sutherlands were commandeered by Elevens, fifteen-to-ten was going to be close.

And all this disregarded the heat those Sutherlands were packing.

Still, though Gavriel wasn't in charge of the squad, he held a significant amount of respect. He was at top of Area Eleven's Knight Police Special Weapons And Tactics group, among the best shots with an anti-material rifle and consistently placing in the finals of the CQC competitions for both knightmare and personnel combat. His violent, albeit good-natured, temperament, his above qualifications, and his work in Area Six against the cartels gave him the nom de guerre 'El Santo Furioso." It was this that caused the squad to listen to him a minute before the estimated time of engagement.

"Break from procedure, go for cockpit shots. Broadcast a Code-3 over all channels. If you're hit by one of those tonfas, use the mass of your frame to prevent them from drawing a bead on you with their rifles. SOG knives ain't shit against a Suthie's armor, so stick to neck and joint jabs. We work as a team, and we're all getting back to the station."

"I'll say amen to that, Santo."

"Save your prayers for Calvin's selection, Bale. The only god this saint believes in is being Darwin's bitch."

* * *

><p>"Break."<p>

On that command, five Purist Sutherlands broke from their line, moving up to the entrance of the complex. Barely a second followed before the strange frames cruised into position. The hulls of the Halifaxes began rising out of their cradles, as their reverse-jointed legs unfolded and their arms extended. What was an ungainly, shark-edged tank became a stocky, unassuming, powerful frame. An angled head rose from its dock, its eyes flickering as it began communicating with its Sutherland allies.

King's HUD flickered, targeting reticules spinning and comm-transferred data appearing in the readouts above her head. "Kewell, transfer all factsphere data to us. I trust you already got the layout of the zone?"

"They're on the sixth floor, grouped in the center. Smart. Our waffens can't reach them."

"I'm not comfortable with this. How much ammo can we expend?"

"We're cleared for two k's of AP and one of HE each, and you're cleared for a k of depleted. Sarah has three k of AP and no HE, so she's lagging behind us."

"Gotcha. Wings, break left. On my mark, ascend to the sixth floor. Drive them towards me."

"Roger, Colonel."

Mackenzie's Halifax remained at the front. Her four squad members swept over to the lee of the building, compressing their legs in preparation for the jump.

She raised the front of her frame. The cannon within her chest nacelle began spooling up, the helix-fed rounds winding down the channel to prepare the feed into the seven barrels.

"Mark."

* * *

><p>The pneumatic cracks of the jump shafts rang out in the desolate complex. Fully extended, the reverse-jointed legs launched the four Halifaxes into the air in a cloud of debris.<p>

Aided by the initial burst, their slash harkens flew up from their hands to the floor directly above their target. It took them ten seconds to rise to the sixth floor. Another second passed with their factspheres mapping the zone of engagement.

Officer Damon was astounded. He was facing right at them, hiding behind cover while four enemies just performed a tactical rappel in his line of fire. He pulled the entire channel.

"They're here. Right in front of me, in the open."

"Wait, don't." Gavriel pulled his fellow officer back, somewhat roughly. "Just hold, alright?"

Damon frowned, but remained quiet. He understood.

The eight Knight Police Glasgows took up firing stances to brace their pistols. At this range, their machine pistols would be able to pierce a Sutherland's armor, but just barely. They would have to move in closer to penetrate the cockpit. They could fill the air with lead before a Sutherland would make it halfway across the floor.

But it was prudent to hold their fire and remain in cover. It was better to assure their kills, especially if the enemy made the mistake of probing forward with such a small force of Sutherlands.

However, the maneuvering required for Sutherlands wasn't necessary for these approaching frames. They charged forward in a single burst of speed, blurring the air where they were before. In an instant, they had crossed the threshold.

Gavriel 's factsphere was directed directly at their entry point. He couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"What the hell?"

* * *

><p>For each frame's HUD, a pair of lines narrowed the screen to show the available firing arc. It was narrow, but that was natural for a frame such as the Halifax.<p>

"Locks acquired. Angle barrels for full dispersion. Pour it in them, Wings."

The vector switch was almost immediate, each frame travelling laterally across the floor. The forward-travelling group of knightmare frames became a broadside line.

Gouts of flame erupted from their chests.

Four modified ADEN revolver cannons. 2,000 rounds per minute per cannon. 30mm tungsten penetrator rounds. Muzzle velocity of 990 m/s, almost Mach 3. All of this firepower was packed inline with their cockpit, their center of gravity.

A one-second burst would send approximately 250 rounds down the range.

The four Halifaxes blasted a thousand armor-piercing incendiary rounds into the concentration of the enemy force, creating a zone of ten by ten square meters that 70mm of armor would be made into dust.

The sound was like that of a chainsaw rolling with thunder.

Pour it in them, indeed.

The air was made into a haze for a decisecond. The smoke and flames from the autocannon obscured the Halifaxes, their vibrations from the firing giving them an ethereal element.

The first 300 bullets cracked, pulped, and ground 50mm of material from the Glasgows and their scant cover lined up with the Halifaxes' firing arcs, eating into the obsolete armor and decrepit concrete.

The next 700 obliterated the remaining material obstructing their path.

Their cover didn't matter at all. The targets would be destroyed.

The Glasgows danced as their legs dissolved and their arms were shredded. An explosion ripped through two as the incendiaries lit up the ejection fuel of their neighbor, the light adding to the brightness of the tracers from the rounds. Blue armor and red lights fell to the ground, shattered knives testament to a futile resistance.

Save for one intact Glasgow, which was fleeing down the ramp.

Into the arms of Colonel Mackenzie King.

* * *

><p>"My men are in a confirmed crisis area! Send the army over now!"<p>

Gavriel had anticipated an attack, but nothing, absolutely nothing like this. He had moved away from the column he was hiding behind when it was … well, vaporized. That saved him.

His captain was barely audible over the panicked frequency. "Whitfield, why are there only three vital signs left of your squad?"

"I don't know, sir. Do you want to come over and- Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Whitfield? Dammit, what is it?"

"They're all outside. I can't eject, I'm on a fucking ramp. I'll launch right into those fuckers behind me."

"Can you exit the hatch?"

"I'm not going to surrender to those squints, Vance. Just make sure the army gets here to extract Stabler." Red blinked in his display. He had to move forward.

"Whitfield, you're better alive than dead. Talk to them, buy some time for the greens to get there. Prince Clovis just broadcast a message all over the command channels to get his forces over to Toshima. I know this a lot to ask, but do whatever you can."

There wasn't much Gavriel Whitfield could say to that, but- "I can't do that. Captain, tell my kids I'm sorry." He diverted right, entering the second floor of the building.

"Whitfield? Come in, Whitfield." Static hissed. The captain limply dropped the phone and sank into his chair.

* * *

><p>"He's making a stand."<p>

Kewell took a profile of the dilapidated building. Jeremiah and Viletta had joined up with the main contingent of their force, weapons readied at the egress points of the building. He had split off, meeting up with the force recon team to support King and the Halifaxes.

The orb shimmered at the head of his frame, continuously feeding data to the group. Everything was going well, aside from the loss of two Sutherlands. From those, one Purist had died. It was unfortunate, but a necessary cost for destroying a rogue force ten knightmares strong.

Still, the Knight Police … That, out of this entire mission, bothered him the most. As much as Kewell believed in the simplicity of Purity, he found it highly unlikely that the Knight Police would have simply lost their knightmares to Eleven terrorists. In their role, the KP could even be called comparable to the Purists. Ten Glasgows- that was too suspect, too complete to be a hijacking.

Their behavior, too- Their tactics were perfect for an anti-Sutherland engagement. Elevens didn't have the discipline or experience to fall in perfectly behind those concrete columns. Their spacing protected against sympathetic detonations, and they had complete coverage from the standard firepower the Sutherlands could throw.

His doubts accumulated.

Improvable as the notion was, Kewell made the call. "King. Try to keep him alive. These guys actually might be Knight Police."

"… You sure?"

"It's my gut. These guys are- well, were good. Elevens don't act in packs like this."

"Wilco." She opened the channel. "All forces, return to the perimeter. I'll handle the tango."

Her lieutenant responded. "You sure, Colonel?"

"… No. Cover me, but fire only when fired upon."

"Understood."

"Kewell!"

He looked up. King's Halifax was staring directly at him.

"If possible, get me his name. If I kill him, I want to know who I killed." With that, she jumped into the second floor.

Immediately, Kewell set to work. He placed a call directly to the KP's HQ.

"Captain Vance-"

A different voice answered. Kewell nearly choked on his tongue when he bit it.

"Your- Your Highness?"

* * *

><p>Upload: Complete: 30%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 92 minutes

* * *

><p>The figure hanging above the G-1 Base let herself down lower to observe the room. Tinted glass at night or not, she heard their profiles and saw their words. Their blue colors gave them away easily.<p>

Stuttering filled the G-1 command from an indignant, blonde, fair man. "Brant did _what_?"

The static-filled reply did little to appease Prince Clovis's anger. Clovis cut Kewell off mid-sentence. "I don't care if Colonel King approved! This is my Area, Lord Kewell! Pull back now!"

The generals in the room flinched with the next barrage. "You're chasing a- a hacker? With twenty knightmares in a ghetto. Think for a moment on how much sense that makes!"

Clovis let Kewell have a single moment of peace before resuming. "That's right, _none_!

"Right now, I have a report from Captain Vance of the Knight Police that you Purists are killing his entire uniform division. This is unacceptable!"

The last replies of Kewell were deadened by the prince's almost hysterical retort. "I'm having Brant's head on a platter tonight! Don't add yours as an appetizer, 'Lord' Kewell!"

The observer blinked at that one. This prince was a strange man. She had heard enough.

With a lithe movement, she twisted back up onto the top of the G-1 Base's roof. Continuing with her momentum, she arced back. Her hands were planted on the edge briefly, before propelling herself feet-first onto the nearby knightmare cockpit.

She made no sound, she had no silhouette. She fell with the motion, hugging the surface of the flat metal plating. Her hand reached into a satchel. A block was soon cemented to the side of the cockpit.

She flew in the shadows again, a dart with a quiet sureness in gliding her body to the next target.

Such a quiet sureness, that the patrol directly beneath her continued their vigil uninterrupted, a mere five feet under the tops of the kneeling knightmares.

If a magus had to describe it, her clandestine capabilities were a sort of Presence Concealment. Possibly hereditary, gifted from her lineage. The blood of the Arab would certainly lend a parameter increase.

But what would a magus know of stealth? Of the long hours of dedicated performance, of the training of an inner quietude?

Certainly, a substantial amount, but not enough to be accurate in their assessment. She would know, she was a magus too.

The girl had her art, and the Art, ingrained in her. She embraced the termination of light a long time ago. Like her compatriots following her, she-

_You are a victim, robbed of your past by war._

_Even if that power can erase your opponent, so long as you remain a captive of hatred, the animosity within you will not abate._

_You are different from us._

She dismissed those thoughts with a bound. The next knightmare was ten meters away. Flight of fancy.

She turned to the two shadows following her. Their colors weren't anything she appreciated. Distaste clouded her ears, like the stench seeping out of their shades. They made a mockery of her attempts at concealment, floating as the smoke of sand.

"Not fair." The words were muttered from the side of her mouth in a grimace. She flew in the air too, just like them, if only for the briefest of moments.

Their only acknowledgment came from the nodding flashes of white and their guttural laughter, the rattling of bones.

Krrrk-krrrrrk.

She shuddered. The oily slithering and rattling reeked of musk and snakeskin. 'A servant is a tool' is what he says- said.

_Tools. None of the complexities of human relationships. Yes, I like that much better. _

Kik-krrk-krrrrk.

She landed once more on top of a cockpit, amidst the contingent of the knightmare force. The hiss and snick of her boots betrayed her.

Kiiki-

They quieted at her glare. She shook her head, more at herself than at them.

With a look of distaste, she tossed the shadows her satchel of blocks. She lost the game this time, and the bobbing, black-shrouded white blotches knew it.

"Here. Go."

A dark moment passes when they left, before she could enjoy the curling wind whispering to her. The darkness before the morning hummed. C sharp. On and off.

The darkness about her eased as she lifted the curse from her existence, allowing her senses to absorb the environment encompassing her skin. Her white-blonde hair fluttered, the loose remnants at her cheeks elevated in the air. She had tied back the rest in a short ponytail with a thin red string, a small luxury she had about her. A mystic cloak enshrouded her still, even with the curse lightened. She lacked any significant indication of her gender, save for a fluid grace-

She donned the curse once again.

Her focus tightened, and like quicksilver, the hazel in her eyes was flooded with red heat.

Dots of blue, burning blue.

That was her initial impulse, to see the colors she was attuned to killing. But she felt the currents on her skin, the sixth sense palpable in her vision.

They- the knights were getting closer. If she delayed any further, she'd lose her predicted opportunity to retrieve a member for her team.

Oceane.

_You caught me._

_I'd like to meet you._

_'Do Britannian girls play cat's-'_

"… Cradle." _That's all._

She donned the skull-faced mask reluctantly.

This was a different game of string, a separate cradle to be entwined.

* * *

><p>If you want to see what the Halifax looks like (excuse the poor art ...)<p>

heavyvalor. deviantart art/Knightmare-Halifax-Annotated-377433188?ga_subm it_new=10%253A1371019615


	19. Interlude 1: Sleepless: Part 3

Interlude 1: Sleepless Part 3

12 August 2017 a.t.b., 0340 hours

Toshima, Area 11

* * *

><p>It was blindingly dark in the second floor. It was supposed to be dawn soon, but for now, Mackenzie King would have to operate under night conditions.<p>

The darkness suited the Glasgow more than her Halifax. Her GAU-8 Avenger Gatling cannon was still spooling quietly, but if she was attacked from behind, she would only have two seconds to respond. It was a show of good faith that she still approached.

She clicked her mike on. "Knight Police! I am-"

The rushing of wind, tinny as it was, stopped her. She fired her landspinners with a burst from her capacitors, turning 90 degrees in a half-second.

The G-forces caused her to clench her jaw, but it was easier to handle than the F-22 she was for more accustomed to piloting.

Charging towards her was the Knight Police Glasgow in her floodlights, knife held at ready and pistol-

Her display sparked. The small-caliber bullets couldn't dent her armor, but each shot was aimed at her head.

Her HUD registered low damage to her sensors.

"This is bullshit." _This man could be a friendly._ She angled her cannon a degree lower.

The grinding roar accompanied the raging tongue of fire, fifty depleted uranium API rounds chewing through the concrete easily.

The floor became shards, and for a moment, the Glasgow was trapped by its own momentum in its road to perdition.

Except-

Gravity apparently stopped working, because that Glasgow flew over the gap-

_Right, it's a Knight Police variant. It doesn't weigh ten tons._

King flicked the acceleration, driving her own ten tons away from the oncoming frame. The small mass blade in her Halifax's right arm primed itself, and she put forward her left to shield her frame-

The shrieking of high-carbon martensitic steel on the ceramic plate casing of her M-61 Vulcan relieved her. It was a superficial cut. She twisted back again, her HUD blurring as she expended another capacitor charge to the accelerators-

In that moment, she caught a glimpse of the knife being swept back upwards.

Her head was forced into her seat as the Glasgow landed on top of her knighmare.

Involuntarily, she brought her Halifax's head up, staring at the overhead, reverse-gripped blade clenched in both hands of the Glasgow.

It came down hard.

Her HUD cracked. Half of the display vanished.

She killed the audio feed before the feedback could hit.

_Bastard. The damned luck to actually hit me with a knife, of all things._

_Still …_

The KP Glasgow was outstretched over the Halifax, its body lying on top of the elongated gun nacelle. Both of its hands were wrapped around the blade, trying to withdraw it from the sensory station.

Its lower body was directly over the Halifax's cannon.

She flicked the fire control for a second.

White filled the bottom of the enemy frame, and the comforting roar filled her cockpit.

The API rounds, at close range, were barely impeded by their obstacle. They made the torso fold, the legs shatter, and the Glasgow three tons lighter.

The sudden pressure and superheated air knocked the blue and white frame to the side, its left arm fragmenting under the tension.

The sound must have been deafening for the pilot of the Glasgow.

* * *

><p>"-Rrragh!"<p>

Gavriel couldn't see anything from that burse of light, and his hearing was likely shot. The vibrations were all he could feel. His Glasgow was being tossed around like a ragdoll.

Without its left arm, he had to release his right arm's grip on the blade. He felt the pressure on his head decrease as he fell, but the impact came too quickly-

"-Tssssh." He exhaled through gritted teeth. Fucking monster. He thought that knife would've ended it all right there.

But it was his frame that was on the ground, without legs or an arm.

His vision returned.

He looked up through his HUD to see the chest-mounted Gatling cannon's business ends pointed in his direction. Behind and above it, he noticed the sparks from the stocky frame's head. His knife stuck out like- well, how else would a knife stick out of someone's head?

Ridiculous as he found the situation and the design, he had little say in the matter. The Japanese built a frame that took down his squad outnumbered two to one. That, he had to admire a little bit.

A tinny noise caught his ear. Turned out something was coming back.

"Stand-"

He didn't catch that last bit. He toggled the safety off of the Slash Harkens.

"I rep- Stan- Down."

The metallic voice was filtered through his wounded ears like a buzz. He methodically aimed, angling his Harkens at the angular knightmare.

_Fuck you._

"This is your la- warning, Offic- Gavriel -itfield of the -night Police. Stand down."

_No, seriously, fuck you._

He pushed down, the sharp crack of the compressed gases sending the flat, bladed spades flying.

The Japanese frame made the worst move. It charged forward into the momentum.

_Got you, squint-_

The twin whining shrieks weren't welcome to Gavriel Whitfield's ears for two reasons. The first was the pain it caused his ears, which had just recovered their function. The second was the simple indication of two ineffective hits. Glancing blows, no better than if some punk keyed a paint scar into the hide of the metal.

The armor of the gun nacelle was sharply angled about the gun. That, Gavriel realized, was the entire point of this knightmare. It was made to engage headlong and resist frontal assaults. He just made the mistake of engaging it in a frontal assault.

Whitfield thought time could crawl. It did when he was a few hundred yards from a target when he pulled the trigger.

He thought he could see the enemy's arm move forward.

There was another burst of sound, a metal hammer ringing out against his cockpit. The feed on his HUD cut.

_I'd never thought it would end like this. Trapped in a metal coffin. El Santo Furioso dead in a steel cube. Like a match snuffed out in a tinderbox._

_Well, as long as I'm alive, I'll see if I can die in the open air._

Gavriel popped the hatch and grabbed his rifle, a M98/30 Mozin-Nagant. It was the Dragoon variant, a usefully short sized type for the slightly antiquated rifle. He had to pay some good money for that gun from the EU. If anything, it was a comfort to have it, though it wouldn't do much good. He spun to face the target.

"Alright, there. I'll be happy to be killed now-"

The mystery knightmare had already passed the last corner, and he heard it speed down the ramp.

It spared him. Somehow, that pilot decided to leave him alone.

"Well, shit."

* * *

><p>Mackenzie flexed her grip over and over on the joysticks. Each breath she drew was stale, warm.<p>

It was nothing like the cold air up there, at combat altitude. 15000 feet was more welcome than this groundbound crap.

She pulled her blonde hair back into a ponytail. Immediately, she let it down. She went through the motions, running her fingers through the strands, pulling it up, letting it down.

Finally, it felt right. It felt like nothing was trapping her head in the cockpit. She tied it up, every strand in place.

She had lunged with the bulk of her frame, firing off a pneumatic charge to propel the mass blade deep into the neck of the Knight Police Glasgow.

She had felt the keening whine of her controls, the snapping shudders when the tendons and wires ripped in Whitfield's head.

It was nothing like being in a jet. Nothing at all. You don't feel your kill as intimately as that.

_Nothing at all. I'm glad Officer Whitfield's alive. In a dogfight, you don't really have any say whether you kill the man on the other side or not._

_That doesn't change how much I hate getting up close and personal like that. Fucking knightmares. Fucking sakuradite._

That was the extent the colonel let herself go with her thoughts. She returned to the mission as soon as she reached the end of the ramp.

"Kewell. I left him alive. We can't waste any more time here."

"Clovis is pretty pissed, Mackenzie. I think we should leave."

"I came too far for this. I'm not about to abandon my duty because Clovis expects the Purists to bend to his will for something this important."

Kewell frowned. "I still don't get why you volunteered for Brant's mission. Is it really-"

"Don't question your superior officer. It's unseemly." The harsh intonation was surprising. Kewell never heard the colonel this zoned.

"… You alright?"

"Fuckall, I just want this thing _done_." Mackenzie sighed. "Sorry. You get contact with Whitfield's cap?"

"I've established contact with KP's commanding officer, but as soon as we straightened things out, the line was cut. I definitely suggest getting the hell out of here, colonel."

"That means we're getting close. The hacker had to have blown our opsec. If she's expecting guests already, then she has more to throw at us than misinformed KPs."

Jeremiah swerved over. He was listening in, and he definitely didn't like what Mackenzie was leading to.

"The army is just a click away, Mackenzie. Are you sure you don't want to walk away from this?" Jeremiah was wary. He had seen this wild side of the colonel before, and it wasn't pretty. Never really was. What loose cannon was? "You can just bombard this hacker with a command to 1st Wing."

"Margrave, why did she send the Knight Police after us?" The question was hissed through gritted teeth.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"She's using them. This wasn't friendly fire, this was her feeding them bad intel. They genuinely thought we were the enemy. So why them?" She pulled up the tactical map on their screens.

"Why not the ten tanks from 5th Armored patrolling to the east, the three mechanized infantry squads on the highway blockade, and the five Army Sutherlands in the apartment complexes? Toshima's a hotspot ghetto. That's why she chose it." She punctuated her next sentence by pressing against the IFFs hard.

"These guys, they're actually her friends. She could tell them anything and they'd listen, because she's as good as Brant says. She hid in plain sight, and she could have used any of those guys to slow us down. Then why use the KPs from a district away?"

"You mean-"

"She called us out. How'd she know the force chasing her was fully composed of knightmares? If she could fake commands, why send a specialized anti-Knightmare force? Made up of knight-caliber pilots? Why not delay us from even entering the ghetto?"

And Kewell figured out why Mackenzie King was so pissed. She looked right at their HUDs.

"She knew who was after her, and instead of trying to tie us up, she tried to kill us. She's targeting knights."

The colonel, finished with her explanation, turned her attention to her troops. "You hear that, boys? This Britannian hacker wants to kill us! What do you have to say to that?"

A roar of furious denial followed. Hell, no.

"This isn't a mission. It isn't even _personal_ anymore. This is treason against blood! Against Purity!"

Mackenzie was angry. Her father was no big fan of Purist politics, but she knew the values and the doctrine. They worked, and they built brotherhoods beyond blood, by blood. She would wade into fire, steel, and blood to uphold Purity.

Except there was a little beeping on her comms that kept her from doing so immediately.

"This damn well be important, Colonel King reporting-"

"Nice speech, Mackenzie. It's pretty important."

She raised an eyebrow. It was Brant, of all people. "We're almost there, and we're raring to go. What's your sitrep?"

"Not good. Clovis is on the rampage, and I'm going to have to ask a favor that'll make your life a hell of a lot harder."

"What is it, Brant?"

"Capture her alive. I'll need her as evidence."

She exhaled in a hiss. "Going to be hard. I want her dead."

"I heard. Told you it'd make your life harder."

"Shit, Brant-"

They both paused at the same time. A distinct 'Ahem, ahem' was coming from all the channels.

* * *

><p>Bartley rubbed his forehead and smiled.<p>

The leg Cornelia had shot twinged, but he couldn't have his satisfaction be dulled by a little bullet like that. "My Prince, what do you think?"

Ten minutes ago …

"I will not be upstaged by Brant in my own Area! My Prince refuses to bow to this upstart OSI lackey, and I refuse to as well!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Even if the Purists had the wool pulled over their eyes, I, General-Commandant Asprius Bartley, will stand fast by my Prince!"

"Sir, yes sir! We stand by the Prince as well, sir!"

"The idea that he was swindled by a 'hacker' of some sorts is preposterous! He handles Area Eleven's security with the utmost care!" _Though, there is that time he left his phone with Wilhelm … with those lotions and creams and oils, and Emperor knows doing what with Wilhelm in that room-_ "Perish the thought!"

"Indeed, perish the thought, sir!"

"Yes, yes! Perish it. Now, Brant may be an upstart one, but he's smart, I'll give him that. Supposing there is a hacker who knows about this Grail business, silly as it is, he should be captured and interrogated, even killed! Not hounded by our Purist forces, certainly not a task for them. Perhaps for our regulars?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir!"

"Given, Lieutenant Walles."

"Preferably not, sir. We regulars don't cherish the thought of hunting in a ghetto."

"Mmm, point taken, Walles. Good man. Yes, very good. Why waste our men? Certainly better than the task needs. And an aside, Walles, we do use a prodigious amount of computer technology, graced by our Prince's generosity, correct?"

"Yes, sir!"

"So a hacker would be prone to using our technology, well-defended as it is, in some sort of way to defend himself. Perhaps this hacker might be able to use our men, perhaps not. But why should we provide him with the opportunity at all? Why not send forces that don't have access to this technology at all?"

"Why not indeed, sir! Sir, a query, sir!"

"Speak, Walles."

"What forces don't have any access to technology, sir?"

Bartley spun his portly self around, his monocle glinting. "Why not the Elevens, Walles?"

Walles blinked. "Incentive, sir?"

"What else but their lives?" He clapped the soldier on the shoulder. "Thank you, Walles. You have been invaluable in assisting a general formulate a battle plan."

"A pleasure, sir. I was just a sounding board for your tactique."

"Even so, it is much appreciated." And with as much dignity Bartley's enthusiasm could muster, the general ran to the command room.

And now here he was, awaiting his prince's response.

"Use the subjects of this Area? Why would they be reliable at all, Bartley?

"Toshima has always been in a state of disrepair, my Prince. We can give the Elevens two options. Fail to deliver the hacker and be leveled with the ghetto, or bring this Oceane to justice, alive and well, and be rewarded with habitation in one of our new development projects. If they fail anyways, we can simply tighten the contain and converge upon this hacker."

"The carrot and the stick, Bartley? This is a very good idea. And I suppose I'll be giving the announcement?"

"Sire, if you feel it is beneath you-"

"No, no, certainly not. This strategy merits my participation." Clovis, disheveled, tired, weary, finally broke a smile. "Thank you, Bartley. I'll remember this stroke of brilliance."

Bartley suppressed it, but a spark of joy at seeing his Prince finally happy leapt in his heart. "Yes, milord!"

* * *

><p>Upload: Complete: 50%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 75 minutes

* * *

><p>"There's not enough time. I'm so sorry, Pacific." She patted her computer sadly. With almost all her tech removed, Pacific was a lonely tower of hardware. In the subbasement of a derelict apartment, it looked as sad as its environment.<p>

Bing.

The blips on her map were converging on her position. Oceane had her truck ready, but moving her cyberlair into a large box was not a task to be done in 20 minutes. Being scrawny didn't help, either.

_Time to issue orders and leave them stuck with them._ She spoke into her headset.

"All forces, this is Director Brant. Communications will be disabled indefinitely following these orders-"

Kszzzhhhzhz.

* * *

><p><em>IP 324e048631- to do so is to stop Brant's target from using Brant<em>

_Stop her- save lives- a premonition of violated secrets- EU mobilizing, Chinese giant stirring, the Pope's Edicts._

_Block route- trace worm- stop code signatures_

_Plip, plop._

_It felt like my brain was scooped out of my skull and into a tank, one of those clear glass things in the movies, you know, the ones where the brains stare at you mouldering in formaldehyde-_

_Oh, I can stop the end._

_I can stop the Church and the Association from going to war._

_I can stop the European Union and the Chinese Federation from barreling into a war with Britannia by hiding this._

_People just get mad at me, laugh at me. Brant doesn't laugh at me._

Nearly two miles away, Seo Shizune shut off the hidden channel that Oceane's worm in Clovis'- Wilhelm's, technically- phone created.

"Gotcha!"

She smiled.

But she stared in surprise at the screen of her computer. Just as she stopped the worm-thing, a message was being broadcast, right from Clovis' room.

"Did I miss-"

"Ahem, ahem."

* * *

><p>Bartley nodded at the sight of Brant's confused agent on the screen. If anything, Brant was consistent with the quality of the agents he recruited.<p>

"Brant's men stopped the worm. The screens are deployed. My prince, you are ready to go live."

"Ahem, ahem. Yes, thank you." Clovis smoothed out his collar one last time. He directed his gaze straight into the cameras.

"All subjects of Holy Britannia in Toshima, hear me! I, Clovis la Britannia, do hereby make this decree! All inhabitants of Toshima who assist me in the task I will give you will be made into Honorary Britannians! Furthermore, the inhabitants who play significant roles in this task will be relocated to the new development projects in Fuyuki!"

He let that sink in for a moment. He watched the ghetto stir.

5,000 inhabitants rose to attention. They stared at his face on the vast screens arranged around the borders, the speaker towers casting echoes throughout.

"A traitor to the empire has been found in the ghetto, by the name of Oceane Coupe! Originally a Britannian, she has stolen a vast amount of computer technology and attempted to turn it against Britannia!"

A picture was displayed on the screens. A pale-faced brunette, with choppy hair, lean features, and incredibly thick glasses was portrayed.

"She has failed. There is no opportunity to escape for her! We have encircled Toshima completely! In our capability, however, we are offering an opportunity. We wish to avoid any harm caused to you by our engagement with this culprit! Assist us, and a life beyond your own now is yours! Resist-" He gestured widely, to his knightmares at attention. "-and we will be forced to enter Toshima."

Clovis appeared once more, next to a pair of Japanese children. They were shivering and bloodied.

"Please, I beg you. These children, almost killed by Coupe, beg you. Stop Coupe, by any means. Bring her, or her body, to us-" and the camera panned right, to the view of Fuyuki's west side, of the glass and steel development- "Bring her to us, and this is yours. All Hail Britannia."

* * *

><p>For once, Kayeri Brant was genuinely surprised. Not by the plan, he had dreamt that up at the very start of the op. No, it was the actual intelligence demonstrated by Clovis, that the prince was able to think up of something actually effective.<p>

But Brant rejected it for its complete lack of virtue. He chose the Purists for a reason, and not for their tendency to put arsenic in his mints. The Purists- and Mackenzie- were consistent with results, and a lack of collateral damage beyond their typical drivel on blood and the vindictive fury that accompanied it. That made his choice easy when requesting their assistance.

Sending in infantry or a standard exfil team would have been bad, too much of the population would have attempted to interfere with the all-too-human operatives. And throwing an entire ghetto at a hacker was divisive, unsettling, and of no place in winning the hearts and minds of the indigenous people.

"Hmph." Why did Lloyd Harkin's misplaced idealism- and pragmatism- come to mind right now? 'Target down'- You don't expend civilians to do that. They were the enemy before, and that could justify- as weak as a justification could be- their deaths in a field of combat. But using them as your tools? That was cruelty, pure and simple.

"Brant? Don't tell me we're going to let the Elevens take care of this."

"Nope, that's not my style- or yours, I think." Kayeri looked meaningfully at Noble and Barnes. "We'll get three choppers over there. I've had the QRs on alert since you've started my mission."

"Pfft. Always the groundpounders who do the tough stuff, because we're tough enough." But Mackenzie said this with a note of tired irony. "I lost two men, KPs lost eight. Damn well better be worth it."

"… I won't apologize, not yet. Oblige me to sit tight for now."

"Wilco. Check six."

Brant gave an uncharacteristically cheeky wink. "ETA three minutes, Brant out."

* * *

><p>"[Mom? Are you going downstairs? Don't listen to Clovis, please. She never did-]"<p>

She hiccupped.

"Shh. [It's fine, Yoko-chan.]"

A knife from the kitchen. That was the weary mother's choice.

It would be quick, and if she wasn't able to subdue Coupe-san, her two young sons would. Ah, but if only she could awaken her husband, drunk on the couch after a long night's work.

How nice it would be, if they were able to live in the apartment that he was building in Fuyuki.

And maybe they could sell those computers in the truck that Coupe-san was loading. Maybe that would be enough to send her oldest daughter to a better high school, or maybe even college.

Better than the boy she was dating.

Better than the nights her daughter came back disheveled and bruised-

All of this was a sick farce. She knew it was sick.

But the hope Clovis gave- it was too much to bear, too much to give up.

"[Mom?]"

"[It's nothing. Come, let's go get Coupe-san from the basement.]"

They nodded solemnly, trusting their mother. The two teenage sons rubbed their hands on the brooms their mom gave them.

With that, the mother crept downstairs, followed by her sons.

* * *

><p>Oceane tried her best to slow her breathing under the table. She was hidden under the wires of Pacific's setup, multicolored strands of gaudy distraction. Her host- she had forgot her host's name even after living there for six months- was at the base of the stairs.<p>

"Coupe-san?"

She was so close, too. Everything was packed. She was just about to get into the truck and follow the rest of Kingfish's plan, detonating the daemons she planted in her last dive to completely fry their infrastructure. But this new predicament was something she couldn't counter. She couldn't hack human beans, not yet.

Somehow, she still was calm. She knew that she would panic soon. _Well, at least I know that I'm calm. If I were panicking, I wouldn't be able to tell if I was panicking._

The desperation didn't hit her yet. Maybe she was still entranced by the former likelihood of her escape. She still remembered the glee at watching the Purists clash with the Knight Police.

_I did more than lulzsec could ever do._

She took pride in the chaos she wrought.

Satisfying, but that didn't change the fact that her options were quite limited.

She couldn't run. She couldn't physically run without heaving and wheezing in pain. Last thing she needed was an asthma attack.

Same thing for fighting her way out, she was no Jack Bauer. All she had on her was a little multitool and two energy drinks. Not exactly combat material there.

Talking her way out was … pretty much a forlorn hope. She only knew broken Japanese, and even if she could communicate with her host, Oceane was sure that being socially challenged wouldn't make her any friends.

_Fat chance of making any friends with a few murderous Elevens-_

No, that wasn't fair. The ghetto was no place to raise children.

"Come, Coupe-san. Talk, please?"

It was only a matter of time before they found her. They had already checked the closets, so she would have to wait until they came closer-

A little light blinked on her phone.

Compulsively, she checked it.

Kingfish00: Are you stuck?

_… What the hell, why not. I'm out of ideas._

DeepAtlantic: might be the end here

DeepAtlantic: got three frogs and I'm stuck hiding behind my comp

Kingfish00: What do you have? Weapons?

DeepAtlantic: Just two Crimson Bulls

Kingfish00: Are you near a socket?

That she was, and the secondary power cable was still connected to it, lying limply on the floor after being removed from C and Atlantic. She grabbed it.

Two pairs of bare feet were just in front of Pacific's wires. The odds were high that they were the sons of her host, taking a closer look at her computer.

Cautiously, almost curiously, Oceane leaned forward. She was glad that she cut her hair short, it would have been impossible to see in the dark. Only the pale, illuminating glow of her computer shone on her targets.

The bottle she opened poured out onto the floor, flowing outwards. She had seconds before the drink touched the two boys' feet.

_Here it goes._

The female end of the power cable was carefully put into her other opened bottle, and she hurriedly rolled it forward.

The hopefully non-lethal combination touched the pool at the exact moment their bare toes were enveloped.

"Eh-?"

The closer son reacted first, freezing up and stuttering through clenched teeth. A smoking char began to rise from his soles, and he fell forwards into the now red-tinted puddle. More of his skin began to sear, blackened discolorations forming all about him as he writhed on the ground in spasms. The muscle contractions increased in frequency, until he was as stiff as a board.

The second son was knocked back, slipping on the wet floor. He began jittering as well, with a "buh-buh-buh" rattling out of his mouth. Blood began splattering up from his mouth, and a red-pink thing jumped out- his tongue, he had bitten it off. His foot jumped up from the water, saving him any further distress, but he still was clenched in a fetal position, unable to do anything but stutter and shiver uncontrollably.

The mother stared. Her first son was still moving in the water, smoke rising from his body. Her second was also on the ground, shaking without ceasing.

"[No- no, no, no- nooo-]" She ran forward, grasping her charred son, trying to stop him from becoming something like meat-

Her knee, as she knelt, touched the water.

This time, Oceane had to turn away.

_How did this happen? I didn't- I didn't mean to kill them. Oh, God. What did I do?_

_I have to leave._

She got up from her hiding place and ran.

_Why did it kill them?_

The electricians had altered the circuit breaker when she paid the bribe for the electric company's provision of power to the home. When she had fired her computers up, the allotted consumption increased. Even though C and Atlantic weren't connected anymore, the power was still being provided.

So she just shoved enough current to stop an elephant into the family.

_That's why?_

_I'm a murderer because of that?_

Those thoughts kept spinning in her head as she ran up out of the basement, through the hallway, and out onto the street. She could see her truck just a few meters away-

But she ran straight into a gang of five Elevens.

"[Hey, aren't you-]"

"-What?" She dove underneath their outstretched hands-

A tightness in her chest froze her movements. She struggled to push her left leg forward, but the burning began, and she gasped like a fish out of water-

Their hands pulled her back, and she gave up, trying to draw breath from a stale ocean of air.

* * *

><p>"She's down."<p>

The white-haired girl lowered her binoculars, her two servants silently perched above her.

The blue dots were surrounding the orange color, dragging it- her- into the center.

She narrowed her eyes, as if she could do something about it. Instead of doing so, she raised her hand to her headset. "What?"

The voice was tinny, but still familiarly evocative, of cigarettes and a mechanical chill, of the result above all else. "Extract her without killing them. You're capable of that."

"If I don't want to?"

"It's a waste of ammunition. They have no business dying, either."

"Stingy."

But she complied, releasing her clutch on her pistol grip.

"It's not about how much it costs."

She didn't reply, but burst forwards, leaping out from the demolished apartment's remnant pillar.

"You two, stay here."

Her _khayal al-zill_ gave no recognition save for a hoarse chuckle.

* * *

><p>"What the actual fuck, Captain?" Whitfield growled at his captain on the radio.<p>

Vance's heavy reply was almost indecipherable in the rising commotion of the roused Elevens. "Whitfield, please- listen. It's your duty. Clovis specifically asked me to use any assets to take down Oceane. The squad's gone. I don't want to add your name to the list."

"No can do. I'm not going to shook at kid."

"Look here, I can't protect you-"

"Then don't." He sighed as he turned the corner and pulled the scope closer. "I guess you're not too happy that I'm not shooting the girl who probably started this mess, right?"

"Damn straight, Whitfield. That's why I contacted the prince's forces when- when you guys encountered those Purists. I knew something was up."

"Sorry, cap. I-" And Gavriel Whitfield gasped.

He felt a chill in his intuition. A black mass in the distance was running, on the roofs of the old concrete structures, flying over impossible distances. The shadows in the night- they were moving towards the derelict apartment-

"What the hell is that?"

* * *

><p>"[Did Clovis say alive?]"<p>

"[Man, she's out. There's no need to hurt her, she looks sick.]"

Oceane wheezed. She was surrounded, just next to her truck, her only opportunity of escape.

_Great. So damn close._

_Did I expect it to end any other way?_

The dark morning sky was still black, a collapsing screen. There was nothing else Oceane could do but stare.

"[Let's take her away. We'll get the reward.]"

"[Wait, what do you mean? We found her. You guys just came here!]"

"[What are you talking about? It's not like you did much, she was already collapsing!]"

"[Shut up!]"

The agitation in the Japanese language was distinct, punctuated by a punch.

"[Fuck off!]"

The two men that Oceane could see from the corner of her eye were at it, their friends rolling up their sleeves and joining in. If she could move, she would have taken the opportunity to run.

All she could do was stare and cough, into the night sky, clouds of smog and wisps passing, a clear patch of night lazily revealed with a single star blinking-

Somehow, Oceane imagined that star to be a skull.

_Ah, death. Imminent, and ironic. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Kingfish._

_Huh?_

The star- it was getting bigger, and there was no mistaking it even with her oversized, thick glasses.

It was a skull, and it was approaching alarmingly fast.

Before the thought could register in her mind-

A wave of black murkiness drew fast, ebbing high to engulf the ghetto block. Shadows descended onto the crowd, their weight pressing heavily on their aggression.

"[Eh?]"

True to the natural instinct, the crowd turned to address this conscious, oppressive force, the figure that the shadows were emanating from.

And, almost as if it was deterred by the attention, the shadows drew back, until they clung to a humanoid shape.

The threat of the inhuman gone, confidence returned to the mob. The two men fighting had enough wits about them to recognize a hostile intent.

"[What- whatever you are, back off! We caught her!]"

The jawless skull stared blankly, but an annoyed turn affected the mouth underneath. "Tsk."

The crowd of Elevens moved closer, brandishing knives, brooms, pistols, waved around in a futile threat. "[Go on, get out of here!]"

The figure was a statue in the face of the crowd, even as their tempers flared and escalated-

_It's as if it was waiting for that exact reaction._

The man who had initiated the fight began this one as well. He thrust his knife forwards-

The figure's arm lashed out, a dark blur whipping around-

Impact-

Impact after impact-

What little Oceane could see of this newcomer was a mosaic of bent bodies and a whirling hurricane of blows, stemming from this black figure. The skull mask crawled on the ground in one moment, and then spun in the air, like a spider jumping from a wall onto its prey.

Every blow came from something like an elbow, a lashing turn about its fulcrum that threw any opposition to the ground. Impossible angles of attack struck the Elevens. A staggering myriad of strikes flew from the murky shape.

But Oceane didn't care about that. The how didn't matter, just the now.

She took the opportunity to move. The burning in her chest had calmed, and she focused on the truck where her precious equipment was. Two seconds of crawling, and she was just at the door.

She noticed the quiet, unsettling and all-too-sudden. Alarms rang. _Turn around. Turn around._

The skull was peering down at her in a trapped joker's smile.

"Augh! Get back!" The tightness returned. Oceane desperately pulled at her pocket, the multitool barely emerging from her pocket. It slipped as she fumbled, and the multitool clattered out of her hand. Oceane grimaced at the futile attempt.

The skull cocked its head at the gesture. Strangely, under the black haziness, a strand of white appeared over the mask's forehead. "Don't enter the truck. Find cover in an apartment. They're sending more."

"More- more what? Elevens? Men in black? Bad people?"

Puzzlement caused the bony specter to ponder the question. "More like stupid people."

* * *

><p>"Here?" Kayeri blinked. The place Oceane was alleged to be looked like the last place for a bastion of cyberwarfare. Rubble and grey occupied the street, and the buildings were concrete blocks of drab. <em>Probably the point of the place.<em>

Charles Barnes nodded. "That's what an Officer Whitfield said on the communications line to his HQ. Frankly, I'm surprised they didn't send in their SWAT teams already."

"Mm." Already, Brant was ill at ease. This was why he didn't get the boots on the ground. A squad of 20 knightmares was incredibly easy to track, much more so than several squads of infantry. Too much got lost in between orders and action, and even though Brant drew his support from the Queen's Rangers, he knew that quality had nothing on chance. The QRs were good, but he wasn't willing to risk 50 lives when Oceane commanded a tank brigade or a knightmare squad to attack. The loss of eight Knight Police was severe, but the number came out better than he expected.

Two helicopters- UH60 Black Hawks- transported the 22 Rangers that would extract Oceane. The third- a MH60 Black Hawk Direct Action Penetrator- carried Brant, Noble, and Barnes, along with a complement of two 30mm chain guns, a pair of Hydra 70 rocket pods, and a pair of miniguns. Behind them was King's Group A, standing stationary to form a contain of the sectioned ghetto.

The numbers came out right. In Kayeri Brant's service in the 'quiet patriotism' of the Office, he learned the hard less of relying on those numbers.

Barnes, his tactician and resident scientist peered down. "Say, are those Elevens down there?"

"Wonder what they're doing there." Noble fixed his helmet over his shock of blonde, his rugged looks obscured by a balaclava. "I guess we'll find out, eh?"

"Neh." Brant reached for his radio, lifting it to his ear. "Drop them in. Sweep the buildings, get her alive."

"Yessir!"

Brant rolled his eyes at Noble and Barnes's chuckles. "Grow up, you two. I'm only two years older than you guys."

"Well, _sir_, we can't all be directors. You should appreciate the respect." Barnes followed up with a sardonic salute, causing Kayeri to scowl.

"It's just Brant-" Unceremoniously, the director found himself shushed by his combat specialist.

"Shh." Noble prepped the minigun. "There's commotion down below." He turned the volume up on the squad leader's channel.

"-have a bunch of unconscious Elevens on the ground. Proceed cautiously, Oceane is more dangerous than intel's assessment. Torches on."

Kayeri raised an eyebrow. "The girl is an asthmatic stick." But he looked out anyways as the copter passed over the two squads, and saw the prone bodies.

And a black murk rolling behind a Ranger. It had barely caught his eye, but there was a chill in his arm, and a strange hostility he felt.

He grabbed the radio from Noble. "Rangers, hostile to your six-"

He recognized it. That black smoke, the skull-

The assassin that tore into the five-man vanguard.

_A Servant- there _is_ a Servant here. I hate being right about my precautions._

He ran to the cockpit and hammered on the door. "We need lights! Floodlights, now!"

* * *

><p>It was pure luck that Oceane reached the second floor in time to see who her savior was.<p>

The skull and cloak drifted off somewhere while she was clambering over the decrepit staircase. Fear became the vital force propelling her up those stairs, and try as she might, nothing came out of the questions spinning in her head.

_Who is that skull?_

_Why did he help me?_

She clambered up the last step in a heaving motion. The pounding in her ears faded, to be replaced by the chopping reverberations of helicopter blades.

_Black- Black Helicopters?_

She couldn't help herself. She peered outside and up-

The floodlights lit, throwing her gaze back down.

Her eyes were caught on the black mass surrounding the skull as the light made contact.

The mass transformed into a fluid, writhing sea, spreading its tides over the street. The shadows shattered in a gale and passed upwards, as if the light was the mortal blow to its existence-

The shadows became a wall between two elevations, blocking off the copters' line of sight onto the street. It had passed over Oceane's head, like a dark cloud she could touch. But she only had eyes for the source of this shadow.

And for the first time, Oceane realized that her savior was human, after all.

A white skull mask stared outwards. White hair framed the mask, cut lower than the jawline, just the height to cause question of the figure's gender. It didn't help that the figure's profile was a masculine body with feminine graces, a taut, lithe frame like a cat's.

His- her?- tanned skin was visible from the minimalistic outfit, a crimson t-shirt, black tactical pants, combat boots, and a hard-case armguard adorned with a single red cloth and a gold armlet.

That armguard, now at the throat of a Ranger, pushing against his windpipe-

And the figure twisted his body, leaping up into the air, impossibly turning the Ranger's head up and clockwise-

Snap.

Impossibly fast, he ran to the next Ranger. Even as the Ranger brought his rifle up to bear, the skull had grabbed the foregrip and spun, centripetal force added to the knife in his right hand. It sunk in deeply into the jugular, and the rifle was ripped out of the Ranger's hands. In that motion, too, the knife vanished back in its sheathe.

It was incredibly fluid, incredibly efficient. There were no wasted movements, and even before the soldier's body hit the floor, the figure was already on his way to the entire contingent of the Rangers.

Oceane was entranced. This- soldier? Commando?- he was her defender.

* * *

><p>The skull-masked girl had her jaw set. She hated these colors, these azure conceptions of intent.<p>

There were eighteen blues left, their black uniforms and body armor thrumming in her ears.

Her training kicked in, and she sprung off from her position, directing her newly-acquired rifle towards the enemy in a forward-grip, shoulders hunched forward and her aiming hand almost at the muzzle.

The gun's report instantly flooded her nose with a staccato of sour tangs, a satisfactory sensation as three of the vibrant-blue human-shapes fell, their color bleeding out to the ground.

More sour tangs and sharp cracks filled her nose and ears. The stupid people were shooting back.

She dove and rolled behind a building's corner. The concrete grits dug into her back, and enemy fire threw dust and debris up. But for the moment, she was safe.

Under the skull, the girl focused her eyes and stared through the building. She could perceive their positions in her mind's eye, two soldiers huddled behind the next block, eight covering the diagonals, and five approaching her position.

She poked out her rifle on the side of the building and squeezed the trigger, turning the angle, until the clip was depleted. Five more blues went down.

Immediately, she dropped the spent rifle and sprinted. She vaulted over a railing, slamming into a faceplate with a sickening crunch as she whipped out her Beretta into the visor of another man and pulling the trigger-

Blue began fading again, and a distinctly familiar metal tang filled her nose. Two more dead.

She used her momentum to send herself into a flip, pushing herself up and the crushed face down. There was another blue spitting fire at her, and she could feel the bullets speed by over her head. Her foot ended this as it completed its arc, cracking the AR-15's rifle casing. She leaned her entire body forward with her prepared counter and drove her Beretta in an outside-in strike, using her elbow as a fulcrum.

And she fired those blows again and again into his neighbors, raining arced strikes with her hand and pistol butt with a steel heaviness and intensity.

Three more-

She ducked in time with the falling bodies, gritting her teeth as she felt the distant rip of a SAW infiltrate her nose. That was a distasteful smell, made worse by the iron-like stench of blood from the bursting body behind her. Two rounds were discharged from her pistol, indigo flashes of heat in response to the similar azure rejections.

Two more down.

The seven remaining soldiers were backing off in the open, spraying lead and obscenities down the street at the building where their brothers-in-arms just fell. Even in the face of this-

She charged, weaving between lines of fire to cover the span in seconds. The blazing muzzles passed in a blur, their black-clad users recoiling back as she entered their formation.

She was at their center, and they couldn't chance shooting without risking friendly fire.

Her Beretta burst forward to embed the muzzle into the first soldier's neck. It was soft, the cushy collapse of the windpipe eliciting a comfortable, warm, red feeling in the girl.

She twisted a full 180, the muzzle leading the head of the Ranger to align with the major contingent of remaining soldiers. Their bullets caught the side of his body armor, burrowing into his arm, but she was too far to the side from her leaning spin for the bullets to hit.

She folded her left leg in, and she and the body descended, almost to the ground.

Her firing arc was perfectly aligned with her targets.

The muzzle flare cooked the windpipe and sent heated exhaust up the soldier's mouth and down into his lungs. The first bullet shredded and mushed muscle and cartilage, obliterating the fourth cervical vertebrae and exiting the nylon-kevlar weave in a red mist, impacting into the visor of the first soldier in the arc. Each of the following bullets travelled similarly, with uncanny accuracy and precision.

It was almost as if she could see them even behind the body she was using as a shield.

Seven down.

And not a moment too soon, she could feel the drain on her limited prana stores by the wide Concealment from the being she bound to her bracelet.

She gazed at the shadowy sky she cast. The passengers within the Black Hawks assuredly couldn't see her through her magecraft, but the sounds of the propellers and the flow of the air currents were enough for her to see each helicopter through the impenetrable murk. _I'll take care of those soon enough._

The gusts from the revolving blades threw her white hair to and fro. She tightened her red twine holding her hair in its short ponytail, and dashed to the apartment Oceane was in, the shadows converging back onto her.

* * *

><p>Upload: Complete: 76%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 31 minutes

* * *

><p>As the shadows cleared, Oceane ducked back behind the wall of the apartment.<p>

Oceane's thoughts were still about in a whirl. What she did now, what she was- she never really expected to survive, even with Kingfish's advice. 'Tactically' sound though it was, she still didn't think using the Purists to cover her escape to be a viable plan.

But she was alive, and there was much more of a hope in that fact than she originally considered.

It was like a light novel or something. She always thought those were ridiculously cheesy, contrived things. The cliché of a trapped protagonist saved by a mysterious hero x in the face of death felt cheap. But, she did face the prospect of death, and it did give depth to the salvation afforded by the boy who protected her.

She absentmindedly checked her smartphone, checking the progress of the upload. They still didn't find her viruses, so DeadPrinces was getting everything from the OSI mainframe in Area Eleven. That was good.

There were a few messages from Kingfish, and they were a little disappointing.

Kingfish00: Oceane, are you alright?

Kingfish00: Take the truck along the alley, go straight into the freeway

Kingfish00: Use the Japanese to cover your escape

Kingfish00: Don't be afraid to ram a blockade

Kingfish00: If you're captured, wipe this phone

Kingfish00: Or destroy it

There was only so much she could do, and this affirmation from Kingfish made her feel worse about it. She chose to spend her life in front of a computer, no two ways of going about it. Reminding her of the weaknesses of that decision didn't help.

It was sheer fortune that she was saved, by a mysterious masked hero, and she didn't feel one whit better about it. She was grateful for his help, but Oceane did not appreciate feeling weak.

Speaking of which, she had seen him running towards her place.

Oceane noticed a light rhythmic patter, and no sounds of combat. She looked up.

The skull-faced assassin stared down at her, his foot tapping and his arms crossed expectantly.

"Hey." Oceane waved lamely. _Maybe I should get up._

She rose to her feet, coming to the same height as her rescuer. The dark pits in the skull caught her eyes, peering silently into her own opaque lenses.

An awkward silence ensued as Oceane tried to collect herself.

_Waitaminute- why is his body so- tapered? Crossing those arms over his chest doesn't help, but it looks like he has- Oh .Ohhhhh._

_Jeez, she's strong, then. And underdeveloped-_

_Like I'm one to talk …_

"Tch." She appraised the girl- not a guy- in front of her. Toned strength and a sleek fit of her clothes lent to the figure's appearance of an urban combatant, but her skin tone and physical posture- they expressed a sort of subtle ferocity like that of an Arabic lioness. It was almost supernatural, the impression Oceane received, of sand and fluid motion and death. But she couldn't be any older than Oceane.

_The only way to find out is to ask, I guess. _"So, I guess you're a Servant. Killer? Your friends are Rider and Archer, and I doubt you'd be called Pistolier or Knifer."

Again, the skull was cocked sideways in response. Oceane sighed. She admitted it, that was stupid. "Nevermind. Who are you?"

"… Hope."

"Hoper?" But it dawned quickly on her. "You- you're the one who jumped my worm! Hope!"

The skull nodded. It remained silent, now appraising the scrawny frame. Oceane couldn't help but squirm under its gaze. It spoke unexpectedly.

"Are you ready to go?"

Oceane found herself off-put by the brusque response. "Well, Hope-"

The skull shook her head. "That's not my name."

_Right, it should just be a handle._ Oceane realized that she was being rude. Being a geek did that to her social skills. She stuck out her hand, a bit awkwardly. "Um, my name's Oceane Coupe. What's your name?"

The skull didn't take the proffered hand, and Oceane had to let it down sheepishly. "Does Assassin fit?"

She blinked. "Well, yes-"

But the assassin shook her head and began chuckling, at some private joke.

"Mm. I'm Canaan." The skull's smile widened.

"Do you play Cat's Cradle?"

* * *

><p>"Brant, what was that?" Noble was shocked.<p>

"Assassin. Presence Concealment, damnit." Brant shook his head. "Well, this makes choosing the Purists a good idea." He knocked on the cockpit. "Pull up, get everyone up to 300 feet."

Barnes raised his head from the minigun mount. "Brant, there's a truck moving. It just passed under us. Imaging has two figures inside."

_Oceane and Assassin. _"Under us?" Brant ran to the other mount, gripping the trigger. Surely enough, right outside his firing arc, a small truck sped out the street and into the alley. "Mackenzie, you have the HVI heading your way in a white truck. Be warned, there is a Servant inside. His ability to penetrate your armor is limited, so act accordingly. All he should have are daggers."

"Copy. We were just reinforced by Clovis's Sutherland regulars, so this should be an easy sweep."

"Good. Check six, or whatever you air folk say for luck."

"Mmhmm, you got that right for once. You still want her alive?"

He had to think that one over for a second. "Killing that Servant takes priority."

"Copy again. Good luck to you too."

Brant let the radio drop. The only sign of response for the current situation was a tightening of his jaw.

_All in the line of duty. I've seen worse._

_They died fighting a Servant. It was a pity, but it was necessary._

He would have to think up of something better in the white letters to the families. Right now, that was enough.

* * *

><p>"Canaan, there's a lot of knightmares coming onto our route."<p>

Oceane's phone displayed the Britannian's IFFs. Ten knightmares were assembled in a firing line right at the freeway entrance, and three squads were converging from the left, right, and behind.

She doubted that her friend's pistol packed enough power to take them out, and nothing in that small satchel had anything either.

The morning light had yet to rise, but the darkness provided little cover or relief. It was getting harder to drive, too. "Um …"

It also didn't help that Canaan had apparently took a nap.

"Take a right."

Alright, maybe it was a little hard to tell, but she was lounging comfortable in shotgun. "I'll take care of the knightmares. Just drive where I tell you to."

"If you say so, but just how-" The chilly morning air jolted Oceane. Canaan was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Oceane gulped. Maybe she was going to die.

* * *

><p>Canaan clambered up the fire escape, then leapt onto the ledge of the next building. The night-morning air was invigorating, a chilly gale piercing through the tight-fit t-shirt. She savored the pins-and-needles, little hints of greens and blues in her vision. It was so tempting to take off her mask, and she raised her hand to the ugly white thing-<p>

"You're almost done. Keep the pretense for as long as you can."

"… Fine."

"And deploy the djinn. You should have recovered by now."

She grimaced at that. She hated losing her vision, the ripples of the spirit's sand on her skin. Becoming blackened for some disguise as Assassin was distasteful. She already had the true Hashashin- or as close as she could to having them.

But she complied, rubbing her bracelet. Immediately, her vision clouded, the pins-and-needles becoming a stale sand. And with only a moment to spare, because the light from the Black Hawks just touched her.

She, a mass of shadows, changed direction, and predictably, the copters followed. Gunfire from the cannons and miniguns began to chew up the rooftops, but they couldn't keep up with Canaan.

There was a 10-meter gap between her and the next building, a strange absence of surface to carry the vibrations of her footsteps and a presence of air she could detect via the whistling before her. Conveniently, there was the rightwards group of knightmares inside that gap. Sutherlands, if she remembered Ki- her handler's advice.

She abruptly dove sideways, the tops of the Sutherlands with their floodlights before her- and more importantly, the Black Hawks passing over her and positioned right above the Sutherlands.

The Sutherlands which, incidentally, were the ones she had leapt over at the G-1 Base.

She reached into her satchel, switching on the ultrasound emitter. No larger than her Beretta, it was an ugly affair of wires, with a dish focuser and two piezoelectric elements calibrated for 700 kHz and 16.744036 kHz. She had cobbled it together from an old LRAD device and a piano tuner the night before, and frankly, she would have preferred to have used a simple timer or switch-detonator.

But she relied on it. It was the only weapon with a reliable firing line that she could see, under the guise of her blinding shadows. At least, she could rely on the 16.744036 kHz.

The toggle was switched on for the low-pass, and the lower pitch was fired. She could see the harmonics like a cone, colored a vibrant yellow. Unconsciously, she hummed the note played. She took a moment to align the cone with her targets, almost lazily adjusting the spread, as if she had all the time in the world.

And she did, really. She already beat 100 million pounds of military equipment. Satisfied, she toggled the second sonic on.

In each satchel was an ultrasound trigger detonator harmonized for 700 kHz, and four of these were within the cone of emission.

A localized detonation of C4 and ejection fuel jetted out several shockwaves in a sympathetic explosion. The blast wave carried the low-flying Black Hawks up, but not enough to allow them escape from the heat burst. The two transport helicopters lost control and altitude, colliding and shrieking into the adjacent buildings.

Brant's copter was knocked about, and for a moment, it looked like it was about to join its two brothers in death. Instead, it regained stability, and stared angrily at Canaan.

She replied by pointing the business end of her ultrasonic gun at the pilot.

The windscreen shattered. He started and grabbed his ears, trying desperately to remove his helmet. In imitation, the helicopter bucked, impacting its nose into the standing wreckage of a Sutherland.

Canaan didn't bother to watch. She had already begun running to the next group of knightmares, and indeed, it had responded to the explosion, just a hundred meters away. She fired the ultrasonics again.

That explosion lit up the night quite nicely, without the helicopters to block the sound and the shockwave of hot air.

_I really should check up on Oceane._

* * *

><p><em>I really am going to die. <em>

-was the thought on Oceane's mind during her careening collision course through the ghetto and over a few Elevens. She was following the road to the south exit, the next-best choice to the one blocked off by a now-reinforced squadron of twenty knightmares. Mostly Purists, with a few Army Sutherlands interspersed.

There were five lagging behind- King's Halifax group, something Oceane was grateful for. But that was small comfort.

The truck was quite a few blocks away, well on its way from the west exit to the southern exit from the ghetto. Immediately following were the last of the Army Sutherlands, the four just about to catch up with it.

_I guess I would have left a lost cause too, if I were in Canaan's shoes._

In the rear-view mirror, the body of a Sutherland appeared. They caught up with her.

Oceane closed her eyes. I wonder how it would feel like, being torn apart by bullets larger than my head-

The explosions rocked her forwards, an invisible hand shoving her vehicle towards escape. Any moment now, she would feel the heat bathe her body, popping her eardums and eyes-

But there was no scorching blaze. _I'm still alive?_

She was startled by a rapping on her window.

There was a skull peering inside, upside down, with white hair hanging loosely.

"Canaan?" She hit the button, and in slid her ally, like a cat curling into a cushion, as if she had never left.

"Hm?"

"Did you kill them?"

"You could say that."

The burning skeletons were still shrinking, but in the mirror, Oceane could see the husks clearly, in a black smog outlined by an orange glow.

"Thanks, you saved my life again."

Canaan just stared at the passing road, still feeling the adrenaline from leaping just overhead the first Sutherland, being lifted by the pressure wave as they exploded. It felt better than the sun on her skin, a warm, warm red with a melody of rattles and booms filling her nose. The smell- somewhat fragrant, even among the natural odors of chemical explosive and polluted smoke. Like a citric fruit, that's what it was.

Her bracelet caught her eye. It was shining more, rather than being clouded by the djinn bound inside. That was a sure sign he was tired. _One more fight for today- then we're done._

Oceane spoke. "Um- Well, I hope you have a plan for the exit, there's twenty frames coming over here."

Canaan debated fighting them. She had rigged about twenty cockpits, and she had killed twelve. That left eight interspersed with the twelve Purist frames. She was getting tired, though. Oh, well. It never really ends.

"Pull the truck over."

* * *

><p>Jeremiah was, in a word, frustrated.<p>

Both Brant and Clovis were insistent on using this inordinate amount of resources (to think that a full combat detachment of thirty knightmares would be deployed) to capture this girl, or so he thought just minutes ago.

Then Brant warned Mackenzie that there was a Servant running around, and then 60% of the Army's Sutherlands were killed. Brant went down with his helicopters, and now Clovis was in a state of panic.

He actually hoped Brant was alright. The man, for all his disagreements with the Purist Party, had a sound mind on his shoulders, and decently capable. And if his man in OSI was right, then Brant actually fought something like a Servant once and won, or something of the sort.

Right now, he should be focusing on the mission.

"Status, Kewell?"

"Not good. It seems like the truck stopped somewhere."

"Damn." It was to be suspected, if this Oceane was good enough to pull the wool over the Knight Police's eyes. She would be able to tell if there were knightmares patrolling her point of egress. However, time was not on her side. With each passing minute, the sky lightened, the sunrise almost imminent. She would make a move with her Servant soon. "Be ready for an ambush."

"Roger. What sort of formation?"

Jeremiah had to think that one over. _The IFFs of the Sutherland groups went offline simultaneously. If that Servant could destroy a squad of Sutherlands in a single second, then he has to possess some sort of area-of-effect weapon. That … little girl Brant showed us, she used a sword. Grouping up against such a small target would be a mistake. _

"Spread out, stagger yourselves. If the enemy engages us, I don't want to lose multiple knights to a single strike."

It was a good plan, if the Servant attacked. Kewell nodded understandingly.

But to reassure himself, Jeremiah turned to watch the force he led.

There were twelve Purist frames, including his, and eight Army frames. On the road, in staggered formation, they could exterminate any armored, aerial, or infantry threat with ease. He was glad to have brought along this much firepower. A long-range engagement with a Servant appeared to be the best course of action.

"Everything good, Margrave?" The captain of the Army troop pulled up alongside the Purist command group. He was respectable enough, but clueless about the situation.

Everything was not good. This was supposed to be an easy mission. After the Knight Police engagement and Clovis's announcement, Jeremiah thought that this would have been over quickly. But then this Servant appeared, and his gut told him that it all was going to end badly. Of course, the captain didn't need to know that.

"We'll be intercepting Oceane shortly. I'm simply taking precautions against the Elevens. We don't know who's destroying your knightmares, but I have a feeling that it's those natives who have attacked."

"The fools." Contempt tinged the captain's voice, and Jeremiah appreciated the vehemence against the enemies of Holy Britannia. "We'll avenge-"

The captain vanished in orange, just after the shockwave collided with Jeremiah's frame. The scouring discharge of heat and pressure threw Jeremiah's frame and Kewell's to the ground.

Jeremiah could make out Kewell's voice. "Ambush! Take cover!"

He blinked foggily, his HUD directed at a rooftop. There were still too many shadows to see-

Save for a pair of skulls shaking. Immediately, Jeremiah had an imprint of laughter upon his consciousness.

The static flickered, then cracked across his HUD. He could see those figures no more.

_They're picking us off. _

He switched his comm to all frequencies. "Stagger! Create a firebase! They're on the damn roofs!"

They didn't comply. All Jeremiah could do was watch. The Purists had clustered with the Army in groups of four knightmares each, as was standard operating procedure. They shielded themselves under the bridge and behind the structural supports. It was a good position to defend against crossfire, shells, and missiles.

_I doubt that's going to help._

Seven concurrent explosions rocked the bridge, on it and under it.

He watched two Army Sutherlands twist from a sphere of hot pressure at their chests, amputating an arm off of a Purist's Sutherland.

Another Purist frame was shoved forward, still stable and standing, only to be picked up like a ragdoll by the third and fourth blast waves.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh rippled static and grey interference across his screen. He almost hit his ejection right then and there.

The attack ended as suddenly as it started.

Jeremiah forced his hands to handle the ply with the controls. The joysticks were barely responsive. Still, he got his knightmare to rise. "Sound off, who's still operational?"

"This is Viletta. We have three of our men alive here."

"Kewell speaking. Five with me. What just hit us?"

To his relief, the entirety of the Purist group remained intact, though not unscathed. They were surrounded by the wreckage of Army knightmares. Fortune had smiled on pure blood today, it appeared that the only casualties were Clovis's men.

The two black-clad wraiths were nowhere to be seen. They could have pressed the attack, if they were capable of destroying eight knightmares in one fell swoop. He was relieved that they didn't, but he knew that he had to remain vigilant.

If he continued pursuing, there was no doubt that those Servants-

_Servants?_

_We are engaging two of those abominations?_

Dismissing the shame, he jammed the switch again and again, this time fully raising all communications with the remaining force. "All Purists, we are disengaging and falling back. I am not willing to waste your lives on this pursuit, until that threat is destroyed."

There was a silent compliance across the channel. The full Purist platoon weaved through the bottom of the bridge, away from the burning husks.

Only one task remained that Jeremiah assigned himself. He patched himself through to Mackenzie. "Colonel, I recommend a full retreat. We did all we could, but we lost eight knightmares without making contact. Brant failed to inform us that there were two Servants present."

"Two? You're certain of this?"

"I have it on my HUD. I'm certain of it."

"Shit. I actually might have to order this ghetto to be leveled. Damn, why did I make these Halifaxes so slow?"

"No, don't come here. I won't allow it." The harshness of his tone surprised Jeremiah. Combat fatigue was definitely setting in, but he felt something compelling him to deter King from entering the combat zone.

"I am your superior officer, Jeremiah-"

"And I'm your party superior. Those things destroyed every single Army Sutherland in every engagement in seconds."

He could hear her frustration over the communications channel. "I understand your concern. I'm heading over to pick up Brant and his team. We'll be egressing soon-"

Shots rang out over the comm channel. "It's the natives. Jeremiah, we're going to be delayed. I'm forwarding you the command codes to First Wing."

"Understood. Stay safe, Mackenzie. I'm pretty sure First Wing wants to hear you give them orders." He couldn't shake the foreboding feeling in his gut, but if anyone could beat it, it was Mackenzie.

But if anyone could beat Mackenzie- it would be a Servant.

* * *

><p>"Canaan, let me get my stuff-"<p>

"There's no time. We have to let the truck go. I can get you to safety."

"But-"

"It's going to slow us down. We'll go west again."

"We'd be backtracking! Isn't there-"

"I can't fight twelve knightmares. This is the best route."

"That's where Brant is, with the rest of those ridiculous knightmares on their way."

…

"Just drive."

* * *

><p>"Well, Brant, I guess they really didn't like Clovis's offer." Barnes quipped some wry humor, even as he was pulling an unconscious Noble from the wreckage.<p>

"Whatever."

Brant was firing warning shots at the approaching populace. He was standing on the minigun post, and both the trapped pilot and Barnes wondered why he simply didn't open fire under the cover of the wrecked Black Hawk. He certainly was pissed enough.

"Is anyone coming to get us?"

"Just King and her group."

Another shot, but this time the director had to duck from the sparse return fire. Barnes was able to catch a glimpse of Brant's countenance. He looked conflicted, half distraught and half resolute.

The slide clicked as Brant ran out of ammunition. He tossed it away.

"Brant?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want me to provide covering fire?"

He stared blankly at his subordinate. "They're still citizens, Agent Barnes."

"… You want to tell that to our ride?"

Indeed, entering from the right were the five Halifaxes, one with a knife embedded in its head. Akin to cavalry charging to the rescue, they halted menacingly before the crowd, their pointed chests with autocannon directed in the Elevens' general direction.

But they didn't open fire, and their recipients of mercy backed off slowly.

Brant nodded approvingly, and helped the copter pilot out of his seat. Each of the Halifaxes, save Mackenzie's, folded into their vehicle configuration to allow their new passengers to embark.

Barnes noticed that the director wasn't entering a knightmare. "Director Brant?"

"I'll follow shortly. Go on, shoo."

Brant watched his team leave with Group A. As soon as they were out of the picture, he raised Mackenzie on the comm channel. "You didn't have to stay, you know."

"I doubt you'd be able to handle two Servants."

That was a mild surprise for Brant, one more too many for this spectacular start to the day. "Two?"

"Yep. Jeremiah is in full retreat. He saw two skulls, just like the one you saw." The barrels of the gatling cannon warmed up . "I'm fast enough to fill them with flak if I get the drop on them."

"No, they're Assassins. Specialists in getting the drop, so something like your Halifax won't be able to get any sort of advantage from surprise. I'm more concerned with how they destroyed the knightmares beneath us." He gestured to the four husks still burning. "I think those attacks were a one-time thing."

"Twenty Army Sutherlands a one-time thing?" The Halifax's head turned to Brant, a Factsphere flap slightly raised incredulously. The effect was made worse by the knife protruding out from its head.

"… You're right, it shouldn't have happened." Brant popped a mint into his mouth. He stared at the rooftops expectantly.

Mackenzie recognized that sort of melancholy. It was familiar, the voice that accompanied a thousand-yard stare. "You saved lives, you know. It would have been worse with the infantry."

"I suppose so."

"I meant pure infantry, like Clovis would have done." Mackenzie grimaced, even if Brant couldn't see her inside the cockpit. "I don't think I would have done as well as you have. Sending in knightmares to catch a hacker, that's one thing. But minimizing loss of life by reducing soft target exposure, that's tactical foresight."

_But how did you come to the conclusion that the best course was that course? The only way is if you assumed all along that the worst would happen- that a Servant could strike._

Mackenzie smirked, despite the fatigue. She had a new respect for the director. "So what's the plan?"

"Well …" Brant paced forwards, keeping his gaze on the rooftops. "I thought that I'd talk them to death."

* * *

><p>Canaan didn't expect something like this. Brant was just standing there, waiting, with a strange knightmare next to him.<p>

Her two servants were next to her, the ultrasonic detonator in pieces in their hands.

_They really should be more careful with that._

She scooped the pieces up into her satchel. Her next move was not as easy.

_I can't tell if Brant has any hostility- his color is off. It's not blue._

The voice in her earpiece also cautioned her. "Do not engage. It's finished."

The arguments were juggled briefly. She could finish the illusion with Brant seeing Assassin, or she could leave him be and hope that the testimony of a few soldiers and a glimpse of her shadows was enough.

She made a compromise. "Go. I'll follow."

The two skulls nodded and laughed.

* * *

><p>Krrrk-kikirrrk.<p>

The three floating skulls presented themselves.

"Hm. And here I was thinking there were just two of you." Brant kept his cool. He expected there to be multiple Assassins, just like the last Grail War. "Indulge my curiosity. Why deploy three of you for a single hacker? I'm pretty sure Oceane isn't your Master."

The skulls just leered at him.

"I guess that was a silly question. But there's a silly answer behind it, isn't there. Magus have no use for technology- oh, I'm sorry, they don't know how to use it, and they prefer to use their own methods. Silly me, there is a small distinction."

But he smiled. "Doesn't it make that easy to figure out what magus uses technology, though? It's by virtue of the fact. The only magus willing to bow to technology would be one lacking prana, one who grew up with exposure to technology, or one ruthless enough to ignore deep-seated tradition.

"Now, I have a better question- rather, a story. Have you heard of the Magus-Killer? Emiya Kiritsugu? Fearsome guy, according to the OSI files. He almost won the Grail War, being the only other master alive. He lost in the end, though. For all his use of guns and explosives and technology, he fell at the Grail's collapse. He wasn't enough of a magus to handle it.

"And I want you to bring that message to your Master, wherever he is. He's going to end up the exact same way." Brant smiled. "His desperation for a simple hacker won't go unnoticed."

He searched for a reaction. The leftmost skull was shaking, just an imperceptible shiver, but he saw it. Assassins should have different personalities. As impersonal as they were, he felt an instinctual push to manipulating that current of unease.

"You can tell your Master that we do have an offer to give. He can keep his command seals, keep fighting in this war. All he has to do is-"

Laughter. The youthful laughter of a teenaged girl. Quiet, but mirthful.

"Heh. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead." The leftmost skull bobbed, sidling to the left more.

The rightmost skull spoke, with the exact same voice. "Still, I'd advise you to be more wary of the living."

"Like your Master?"

"I'm here. That's a silly question to ask."

"Was it? I have enough now. Perhaps we'll meet again." He turned his back. He knew it was a tempting target.

As soon as he heard the wind shift and the roar of the cannon, he dove to the leg of the Halifax and covered his ears.

* * *

><p>Canaan could tell that the knightmare was something she couldn't take down.<p>

She could also see, from the iridescent cobalt, that the gatling gun on its chest was the most hateful weapon she had ever encountered.

A long tongue of fire shouted heat at her, tearing the air with a stream of white-hot shells.

She soared to the right with the djinn fluttering on her boots, but it wasn't enough. The sheer mass of the 30mm ordnance threw concrete sheets at her that dissolved into thousands of gritty shards.

She had the djinn seal off her eyes and ears. The air currents were enough for her to run through the fire line, speeding over the wrecked street, ignoring the temperature, the pressure, or the fact that five hundred rounds devoured the street surrounding her.

Craters erupted from the earth. The compression of air began to beat against her skin, she was that close to the cannon. The angular, silver frame tracked her path, but it seemed to lag just a millisecond behind, and that was enough for Canaan.

She dove through the knightmare's legs and fired into the joints-

To no effect.

It was to be expected. She had nothing much to even dent the knightmare.

But she was just a diversion, because she was faster than even her assassins. Her assassins, which had taken to the rooftops and were preparing to destroy this knightmare. She prepared to run through the opposite side-

The Halifax twisted its legs and spun on a dime, about its central z-axis. Tossing gravel into the air, it skidded back, over Canaan. Blindingly fast, without reason or warning.

* * *

><p>Mackenzie grinned. "Dodge this!"<p>

The cannon roared out another burst, joined by the vulcan on its arm. Plumes of concrete dust snaked about Canaan's position and chewed through the concrete. Like the hammer of an angry god, the tattoo of the bullets obliterated any sense of civilization left on that ghetto's street.

Mackenzie knew she missed the floating darkness. The flickering of her HUD from Whitfield's knife was playing havoc with her targeting.

Still, she had made sure that Brant escaped. He was heaving in her other arm, draped over her sheathed mass blade.

She took the luxury of opening her cockpit. "Get in!"

Brant didn't need to be told twice. He jumped, sliding in the cramped back. "You think you can take that Assassin and the other two?"

"I have ammunition and armor. They have- what, knives?"

"Watch out- the roof."

Mackenzie swiveled her frame. "Wait- are those-?"

Instead of continuing her sentence, she let loose a hail of vulcan fire. The screen flickered, one side fizzling out for a second.

The white skull disappeared behind the building.

"Shit, that was one- aw, hell."

"Mackenzie?"

"The third one." Instinct born from dozens of dogfights kicked in. She shot off another capacitor charge, and spun to face her six. Sure enough, a skull and cloak had already reached the apex of its flight. Her vulcan, on her arm aimed skyward, blared another clarion call of tracer and shot, but the assassin sped faster and faster-

Ten bullets collided with the assassin, tears in the black cloak streaking from the back.

"Damn it-" And then Mackenzie heard it, the rattle of feet on the roof.

* * *

><p>Canaan hit the switch, the plastique blasting off the hatch lid. Instantly, the dark pits of her skull mask greeted the grim faces of Kayeri Brant and Mackenzie King.<p>

She planted two dirks into the controls. That startled them.

King sprang up, throwing a punch. It almost connected with the skull-face, but it had shifted to the right.

Its response was a rapid grip on her blonde ponytail. The black body of the "snake," a punishing elbow, connected with King's temple-

Almost. King had thrown up her arms in defense, but the blow was still enough to rattle her grey matter within her cranium.

Canaan pushed her dazed body aside and grabbed Brant's collar. Her body twisted, and Brant found himself thrown out of the cockpit, in a free-fall to the hard ground.

The cracked grey ground rushed closer. He tried raising his arms to absorb the impact, but the gravel sent concentrated pains through his body.

He rolled over, to the sight of the black body and the white skull floating overhead. It was soon joined by another, which had also brought King down.

"You wanted to talk us to death."

"Hah. Ahah-ahahah." It hurt to laugh. He sat up, holding his gut, and gestured to the broken assassin on the ground. "I let Colonel King do the talking."

If he didn't know better, Brant could have sworn that the skull frowned.

It knelt, drawing a pistol- his SIG Sauer. "I have a question for you. Why did you fight me?"

He sighed. "Something about a misplaced sense of duty, I suppose. A healthy bit of curiosity never hurt either."

"I could do worse than hurt you."

"Yeah, that was a risk I was willing to take. It was worth it. You could kill me or King, but then I wouldn't be able to call off the rest of King's squad from killing Oceane."

Growling purrs and grinding approached as the four Halifaxes converged on the building just to Brant's left. They unfurled their arms, their turret-bodies riding from the cradles constructed from folded legs.

"Trying to hide her right under our noses was innovative, I'll give you that. But I think you knew you were in checkmate the moment you landed dramatically."

Canaan conceded nothing, sparing only a brief glance to affirm the knightmares' positions.

She returned her gaze at Brant, who was dusting off his suit off. The side of his mouth turned up in a crooked half-smile. "So we're at an impasse. I'll still answer your question, if you'd like."

She remained silent.

"I'll take that as a yes. You know what a rabid dog is?"

"..."

"You're fighting against the heroes of ages, and your master decides to send you to take on a few human beans. All you are is a mad dog. You broke the rules of the Grail War. When you crossed the line into the world of the unsuspecting and uninitiated, you drew the attentions of a nation. It just so happened that I was the first guy to respond to the call. Well, an 'Assassin' wouldn't know much about duty, would he?"

He knew that the killing intent from these two was on a murderous level, but he didn't care. "And there's two of you left. You Servants _are_ killable, by those machines over there."

For a moment, the skull remained frozen. Brant almost expected her to start laughing again-

"You're wrong, about two things." The assassin who had tossed him bodily spoke coldly. "I came here to win."

Brant was skeptical. "I don't see how."

"That's the second thing. Assassins may die-"

Those words were worse than any bullet, filling Brant with a wrenching apprehension.

"-but Assassin will not."

* * *

><p>The shadows that remained in the rising morning swirled. A ghostly wind, a hiss and rattle of sand and musk.<p>

The chitter of insects, and a grotesque laugh. The body that Mackenzie King shot began to vanish in a haze.

White skulls, trapped in an eternal grin, appeared. Perched on ledges, standing on rubble, crouching over Brant.

Some were already balanced on the knightmares.

_Khayal al-zill._ Shadow puppets. They could be called pale imitations of Servants, because they were not Servants at all.

They heeded the call their Master gave without comprehension, only a murky impression of her will giving them motion. To call out eighteen shadows was taxing for Canaan, but her affinity lightened her yoke.

A shadow is just that, an ephemeral imprint of motion given form by imitation of a corporeal thing. They were Assassins, without a doubt. But they had little capacity of interacting with the world.

In terms of combat, they were useless. However, they were extremely convenient tools of deception, and deception is the first tool an Assassin will use.

* * *

><p>With that, she addressed her companions. "Get Oceane."<p>

Kiikkikrrt.

They pooled together and spread as a single mass of darkness over the entire block. A howl of wind sped, whipping at the knightmares. And their pilots didn't do anything, paralyzed by a grip on their souls.

A chill ran down Brant's back. That was unexpected. He depressed his jacket's button, activating the mike inside.

"Incoming-"

She kicked him to the ground, cocking Brant's SIG-Sauer.

"Don't talk. You know, that's all you are. Talk."

He stopped, then slowly turned his head back to the skull and the dark hollow of the barrel.

"Here's my take. Guns are simple. Pull the trigger and everything's settled. There's none of the complexities of human relationships."

Brant watched with irresistible, sickening fascination as the trigger was pulled.

Canaan fired once, twice, ten times. She didn't stop until the clip was emptied. She observed the blue miasmas bursting from the barrel, their reports beating a metallic, ringing report into the morning rays of a purple sky.

The gun jumped up each time, spreading the craters in the ground next to Brant's head to create a crude facsimile of a halo. Shards cut into his face, drawing shallow lines of blood.

His resolve held. He held the stare of the bleached skull.

It just leered in return, its cloaking shadows flaring. "But I'm not going to kill you. I want you to know that I beat you." It dropped the spent pistol on Brant. "I want you to feel what it is to fight for hatred. You're going to drown in a bottomless darkness where the more you struggle, the more you get pulled in."

The shadow and skull leapt back. It left Brant lying on the concrete, contemplating those words, even as the Halifaxes tried to gun down the shadows that were haunting them.

_They shouldn't bother._

He saw Mackenzie stir, mouthing words into her headset.

There was a screech of air, and the low rumble of missiles from the dark sky falling upon the building. She had drawn upon her First Wing in a last attempt to flatten this Servant.

Somehow, Brant still thought that would be futile.

* * *

><p>Upload: Complete: 99%<p>

Estimated time to completion: 0.4 minutes

* * *

><p>The last echoes of muzzle cracks and explosions faded with the pitch-black smokescreen.<p>

King sighed on top of her frame. "They didn't even bother to fight." She rubbed her temple ruefully.

Brant just laid there on the ground. "You alright?"

"I guess. I thought she'd kill us."

"She spent too much of her energy on us. Assassins don't have staying power."

Brant felt his phone ring. He unlocked it and raised it to his ear.

"Agent Seo?"

"Brant! Are you alright?"

"My pride's a bit hurt. Otherwise, I'm fine."

"Did it go well?"

"Almost exactly as planned. Everything screamed of theatricality. Thank you."

"No problem! You want me to take care of the end?"

Brant smiled. He had already won the mission's objective from the very beginning, placing Shizune Seo as xXDeadPrincesXx. "Wipe it out, all of it. Burn that server."

He hung up. Immediately, his gut churned, and he emptied his stomach.

* * *

><p>Gavriel Whitfield lowered his scope.<p>

He had watched this fantastical escapade from the highest vantage point, an old radio tower in the center of the ghetto. The skull-faced shadow that killed knightmares, helicopters, and clambered atop that monster he had faced- that seemed to be the enemy. The fellow in his crosshairs was a foolishly noble fellow, but if his objective was buying time for those other knightmares chasing Oceane in that truck.

Importantly, however, was the fact that the shadow was human, not just some specter that sped around killing people. He had seen it get into the car, a young girl with white hair. For a moment, he had considered taking the shot when she put the gun to that man's head. The thought was almost immediately dismissed. He wasn't going to have a kid's blood on his hands.

_So what's my next step?_

He could definitely bring this information to OSI, and then settle for a life back on duty-

Except the memories of his squadmates haunted him. Norris, Willis, Cohen, Creighton, Bale. If Clovis's information was right, then he had to hunt down this Oceane. _Oh, the things we have to do for duty._

Sarcasm aside, he didn't relish the prospect of hunting down a kid. He had seen things in Area Six that clung to his nightmares for a long, long time.

His radio let loose a stream of static. "Officer Gavriel Whitfield of the Knight Police? El Santo Furioso?"

He blinked. "Speaking."

"This is Agent Shizune Seo of OSI's Eleventh Intelligence Detachment, Special Activities Division. We'd like to talk with you."

"I'm a little busy-"

"We're sending a helicopter over soon. Hang tight to that handrail, sir."

Puzzling and unexpected as that was, it was welcome. Whitfield considered what all this really meant, then shrugged. He'd talk when his pay grade fit the bill.

* * *

><p>"I think you owe me an explanation."<p>

Oceane glared as best as she could through her glasses. She was, in a word, upset.

Her data was deleted. Her computers were gone. She was chased around Toshima for two hours. She somehow blacked out while trembling in fright when Brant had those knightmares surround her. And now, she was driving this Canaan, napping in a stolen car, to some undisclosed location. The Britannians weren't even bothering to pursue them to. She was grateful for being saved, but she only had so much patience.

"Cranky?"

And now this girl was commenting on the sleep she didn't get. Funnily enough, Canaan was nestling her head deeper into the cushion.

"Oh, come on. You get to sleep?"

No response.

"This isn't fair. I just lost my life, and you get to sit there and sleep!" That realization did it. Oceane hit the brakes, pitching Canaan unceremoniously off her seat. Oceane's hands shook as she clenched the wheel. "You should have just left me. I saw those _things_ and I shouldn't have. I didn't have much- I know that- but dammit!"

She punched the dashboard. "It wasn't much of a life, but it was my life. I- I became a god on the internet. Now what? I don't have anything to return to. I should have just died there."

The skull simply stared-

Oceane slumped. "Aw, hell. What do you care? You probably think I'm- a stupid proggie, that's what. Well, I'm not that anymore. I don't have my tech."

"Oceane."

"What-?"

She stared, as Canaan removed her mask.

Young. Striking. The intensity enhanced Oceane's impression of Canaan as a lioness, but what caught her eye the most was Canaan's regard. Canaan's eyes- there was a rich hazel, with a warmth and a severity that comforted Oceane.

"You should value your light." She closed her eyes, and Oceane felt herself being drawn back to reality. Canaan wriggled herself back onto her seat, and reached into the back for something. "Maybe you don't play Cat's Cradle, but a friend of mine did."

A spherical plush cat fell in Oceane's lap. There was a red bow of twine, matching the red blotches on the cat.

Oceane sighed. "It's a cat. There's a piece of string."

"Cat's Cradle is a game for two, but it only takes one to give meaning to a piece of string. Besides, strings are replaceable." Canaan leaned back again and nuzzled into the cushion.

That made sense, with a lucrative proposition attached. It was almost beyond belief. "You're going to replace my computers?"

"I saved you for a reason. You would be a little useless without your tools."

Oceane didn't know how to respond. In this entire escapade, she had never asked herself 'why'. It was amazing to be freed from her previous life- a life that she considered lost the moment she was defeated in her own area of expertise. She had a new lease.

"Okay. You have a job for me. Supposing you got me some hardware and a place to stay … what would this job be?"

"You're going to help us kill some Servants."

"Us being … ?"

Canaan motioned Oceane to pull over. They were in a wealthier town- Fuyuki, if she recalled correctly. The morning light illuminated a black Mercedes-Benz 300SL Coupe, a subtly old-fashioned sedan graced with a flowing, elegant, streamlined body.

The door opened on Oceane's side, Canaan inviting her to enter the luxury vehicle, like a chauffeur to some distinguished man introducing a new acquaintance.

Inside was a scruffy man in a black duster, his heavy eyes glaring critically at the two girls.

Canaan smiled over Oceane's shoulder. "Assassin and I."

* * *

><p><span>Notes:<span>

This is pretty much a side story. I'm not going to go two ways about it. However, this reflected something I wanted to portray in a story, that completely separate events from the main characters can occur because of outside variables. This probably took a toll on the main storyline, but I thought it was worth it.

Major credit to 1412 karasu, who made Oceane. It's been a year, and I don't know if she's still reading. Still, I honor the work put into a character. Hopefully, Oceane seemed like a believable character. I really enjoyed writing her (albeit 30% of the characterization couldn't be used, such as the multitudinous layers of clothing and the wheelbarrow. It's summer in this fic. And there's a chase scene). I'll definitely work on her continuing characterization in the next chapters, because she's very, very convenient for Assassin's plans.

Major credit to AngrySanto, who made/inspired Gavriel Whitfield. I was going for an observer's feel with him, but with a lot more character than the standard stand-in for the reader. Admittedly, he was a last-minute addition, but he definitely helped characterize my perspective of the events going on here.

Major, major credit to Mr. Sparkles for a certain Director Brant. Kayeri Brant is proving to be a much more difficult character to write than I expected, but definitely an enjoyable challenge. It's nice having continuity from F/ZE to F/NA. Brant took several levels in intelligence during his tours of service with OSI's Eleventh Intelligence Detachment, so be prepared for more gambits.

The hackery here is pretty much bs. I really only know theory, no coding. I'm more of a hardware guy, what with controls, dynamics and mechanics. Still, I did my best. Officially, we don't even know if the internet exists in the universe of Code Geass. Somehow, I don't think ARPAnet would have been released to the public, but hey, conjecture is conjecture. (EDIT 6/12/13: Thanks to MisterSP for reminding me that the internet does exist, though it may not be as pervasive as in this world. "It does. Lelouch is shown using a Japanese internet search engine in the first season. It's product placement, like Pizza Hut was, but he was clearly on a computer, using the internet. I think there might have been a couple other instances... students checking news sites? But I'm not sure.")

Some people might ask about Oceane's decision to not upload piecewise to the world wide web, instead to a select group of people via a private server. Assuming that every person has internet, and that information flows freely, it may have been her preferred route if she wasn't pressed for time. Because she was working with her closest friends, who had the opportunity to optimize their computers to cooperate with Oceane, it would be preferable to utilize the faster connection and file transfer speed with her friends as Oceane's programs broke down OSI's firewalls. Eh, it's a bit contrived.

Shizune Seo is a guest from Kara no Kyoukai, and pretty much Brant's ace-in-the-hole for the Grail War. She's going to be showing up in interesting ways (if you've noticed all her involvement, she never confronts the factor that a Servant is present. Hmmm).

Canaan. Canaan, Canaan, Canaan. Definitely did not want to give her the "oh hey main protagonist notices strange girl following him around" treatment. She's a Master, so she has to get the same treatment as a main supporting character deserves. At the same time, she is a major player in the early stages of the War (her current actions are pretty much going to determine Britannian combat tactics for Servants), and she's fully capable of neutralizing a Servant on her own. Writing her synesthesia was a pain, but I think it worked out well. Now, as to why she was masquerading as True Assassin with her shadow puppets, I'll leave that for you to determine.

I'll admit that I am dissatisfied with the fluidity of the chapter. I did want to include an airstrike in full, as well as a bit more knightmare combat with the _khayal al-zill_. Things could have also just gone smoother, but … Well, I'll see what'll happen in an edit sometime.

Assassin. Mysterious Back Alley Skullman X was certainly a candidate, but as you could probably tell, someone's pretending to be him. So, who is this actual Assassin?

I think that's it. Please ask any questions in your reviews. I won't be able to answer review by review often anymore (Argh, I'm so sorry ...), but I'll do my best to reply individually.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Alright. It's been almost a year since my last update. That was pretty much my fault.

My biggest setback was the content of this chapter. I became pretty ambitious, writing ~9k words back in September. I intended that to be the reward for answering the prompt of the projects Rin had mentioned in the previous chapter, but … school hit like a ton of bricks. I hit a case of boredom and writer's block as well. Adding in 3 OC's didn't help.

The second largest setback was my re-reading of the fic. I had realized quite a few things about my older chapters (length and quality being the big bugaboos) that I did not like. So I actually wrote 20k words to rewrite the entire first eight chapters. I'm still working on it. I feel like an idiot, but it just turned out that way. I'll leave this to the side for a bit, because I do want to discuss that a bit more.

The third setback was my education. I was accepted into my school's graduate program early, and I made the somewhat ambitious decision to take 4 grad courses (Digital Controls, Robotics, Geometrical Modeling, and Numerical Methods, if you're interested) during my junior year spring semester, in addition to 2 undergrad courses. IT SUCKED. BAD. CLASSES WENT FROM 10AM to 10PM FOR THREE DAYS A WEEK. The good thing was that I got a 4.0 overall for the semester.

So. Those are my reasons for my fairly lengthy disappearance. I want to apologize for it. I really do love writing this fic, but my mind has been elsewhere for quite some time. I really hope these chapters (~25k of words) do make up for it, but if not, then I hope my apology is enough.

There is one person that I want to give a shout-out to, and that's Mr. Sparkles. Officially, he has surpassed me in his contribution to F/NA and F/ZE. I can't say enough on how he advised me to keep going and never stop on this. There's not much I can say, but it's there, for what it's worth.

Now, the heavy stuff. I am currently rewriting the previous chapters to include a much more concrete plot. There will be a significant improvement in the continuity of the story, as well as significant ties to each event with their previous counterparts. Action and characterization has already expanded to be far greater than my previous writing. What I need now is advice about where to go with this rewrite and your patience. However, because of the sensitive nature of the content I need help in, I need to put down a qualification.

**All those who answered my question from **"The whole supersoldier scene is a fairly obvious front, designed to put the powerful and influential Purist faction off guard. There are a load of references in there, and the first few (I'll be the judge of how many is "few") person who catches ALL OF THEM in the section WILL GET A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NEXT CHAPTER. I believe that there are at least three."** will be allowed to PM me about what my rewrite is. All those who made an OC will also be allowed to PM me. If they want to analyze it and are not afraid of spoilers, I will provide the summary of the rewrite to them for advice.**

This satisfies two concerns I had. The first was an appropriate reward for my challenge from the start of the interlude. The second was the advice I need for writing this rewrite. I'm planning on completely replacing every chapter until 8 or 9, possibly even beyond that. I would appreciate any help offered, but I want to give those who contributed to F/NA an opportunity to learn more.

Another thing: NO MORE OCs UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. I need to get myself back on track.

Speaking of OCs, I owe an apology to Vegeta the 3rd. I promised to include your character in the next chapter, and I have failed to do so. However, the nature of Kishou Sakatori fits in far better in a school setting. Thus, he will make an appearance in the rewrite. That much I can promise.

Alright, enough rambling. I think I imposed enough on you guys. Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with this fic despite my absence. I know it's been a long time (you probably had to reread some of the previous chapters …), and I have no excuses. But if I may be so bold, any information to help improve this fic would be great. Favorite scene, critique (what I did well, what I didn't do so hot in), anything you'd like to see, all of this helps. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And if you haven't already, please check out F/ZE by Mr. Sparkles. He'd appreciate the traffic.

HeavyValor out.


	20. On Britannia (important AN)

**AN:** There is a very important AN at the end of this chapter. This is canon to FNA, but ... well, you'll see.

* * *

><p>Britannia.<p>

Ironic, how much of a forbidding miracle was necessitated for a prince and a princess to be exiled, to a land which would be conquered by the exact same country that exiled them.

"I will obliterate Britannia."

Yes, I blamed Britannia. I blamed the man who is Britannia.

Ten years ago, a little boy and a little girl lost their mother.

No … It would be more accurate to the record of the world, to say that an empress was murdered, and her prince and princess were simply collateral damage. That was what the royal house of Britannia saw.

How easy it must have been to scorn the dead commoner, the woman who had earned her place beside her emperor. No matter what Mother had achieved, the imperial family would never accept one not of their inbred stock. And because of that, how easy it must have been to pour condemnation upon her children, without regard to how _wrong_ it was. There was no mercy spared for the victims, for the living and the dead.

They were not there. They simply ceased to exist for us.

I had heard the gunshots in the night.

I was the first to see her sprawled over Nunnally.

The steps of the villa were stained with Mother's blood, her dull eyes staring into the trembling ones of my sister.

I couldn't hear the commotion. I ignored the two butlers on the upper stairs. All I saw was the two figures in the light, and the frozen expression my sister had as she stared without seeing. I'm certain I had the same expression.

Looking back, my audience with the emperor came too soon.

**"**Why didn't you keep Mother out of harms' way? You're the Emperor, the greatest man in this nation, if not the world! You should've protected her and now you don't even visit Nunnally!"

**"**I'm no use for that weakling."

I could only gape at him.

**"… **That weakling?"

**"**That is what it means to be royalty."

The childish rage that engulfed me …

"Then I don't want to be your heir! I give up my claim to the throne! I'm sick of the fighting and scheming over who will succeed you!"

I screamed a scream of hatred, frustration, and desperation born of a brother watching his crippled, blind sister for days. Lying in that bed, never able to see or walk again, seeing a sight no child should see-

"Father, I've had _enough_!"

The silence, how it rang in that hollow hall.

And he stood, towering over a scared, defiant child. He roared at me-

"You are dead. You were always been dead to me, dead from the moment you were born. Who gave you the fine clothes you wear and comfortable home? The food you eat and your very life?"

He began his stride, and the child could not help but step back from his father. "All of those, I have given to you. In short, you are nothing to me because you have never _existed_. Yet you dare to speak such foolishness to me? Lelouch, you are _dead_, and therefore you are not entitled to any rights."

In the hall, their eyes were not daggers, they were the hammers of condemnation for a young boy and his younger sister.

"I am sending you and Nunnally to Japan, as prince and princess. You will serve well as bargaining tools."

The sentence was dispensed without mercy. No quarter was asked, and none given.

What infuriated me was my helplessness to help my sister. I acknowledge how likely it was that I could have been my sister's substitute, embraced in my mother's grasp even as the bullets struck. It was dumb fate, a pure, feckless, fickle chance made possible by negligence from the most powerful man in the world.

Perhaps I was selfish. Nunnally needed help, more than I needed answers. But I knew, even if her suffering lessened for the moment, we would have been consumed by the family. I knew this from the sympathy given at my condemnation. And …

I wanted justice. I wanted answers. I alone could protect Nunnally, and I alone could discover who killed our mother. Selfish desires and selfish survival- what else could I do?

Thus, I still directed all my hatred at this man. How couldn't I? Why wouldn't I? Who was he to send the weak to their exile?

He was strong. That was what I understood.

Then is it good to be strong? All my hatred was contained in that question. I bore this hatred for a heavy four years, until-

Hah. Until I met two contradictions.

One rash boy, the son of a stubborn, prideful man, who exercised his strength upon my arrogance and helplessness.

And yet, he eventually sought to save lives in the ending of war.

I can recall his words. They were very similar to my sentiments at the time-

"Is it bad to be weak?

"The world seems like such a terribly sad place, a world without any hope at all. There's disease, racism, living in a never-ending cycle of hate. The cycle must be broken. Somebody has to do it.

"Of course, it's doubtful that the one who does it will make the bad things go away. No one should lose more of the people they love. At least, a world without war.

"I don't know how you would do it, Lelouch, but if I stopped trying, them my father's death will have been in vain. My own father died because he had to sacrifice his life in this war."

However, he didn't resolve my hatred. In fact, I swore to him I would have my vengeance on Britannia. I thought this vow inescapable.

And then I met the other contradiction shortly after.

One who would help because people were invaluable in his eyes.

He held his store of treasure, his stock in the world in people. He treasured people more than himself.

A dangerously unselfish boy.

And just like I met the first, I was struck down by him. He had no strength to bear, no power to wield other than his conviction. It was his incredible, naïvely ignorant words that wrought a crack in my resolve.

"My dream is to be a superhero. I want to save everybody."

He stood for those sentiments simply because he told himself one thing.

_I am not worthy, and others are._

Even if he couldn't see it, his actions spoke for him. He was made to be a pawn, but his behavior …

Absurdity, that's all it was. This world would not permit a savior so pervasive. Even so, it made me realize something about myself. As much as I considered him to be abnormal, I was even more so. I clung on to hatred for years upon years. Anyone would have told me to have forgotten this.

If he stood for me, my father would laugh. The world would laugh at a boy consumed by hatred and a boy obsessed with an unequivocal, impossible justice. But perhaps I would be comforted knowing such people exist. Such stupid, foolish, good people.

He would fight for Nunnally.

That day, when I saw him first talk to her, was when I decided that the world was no longer worth living. The world, that would consider we who were wronged absurd, had to be changed.

Instead of destroying people such as him and I, I would destroy the world and make it anew.

That was the turning point. Since that day, I've lived a lie: The lie of living. My name, too, was a lie. My personal history, a lie. Nothing but lies.

Who could suffer such a world to exist? I had to become part of it. In that, I could understand how much the world's evil permeated its people.

I was sick to death of a world that couldn't be changed. But even in my lies, I refused to give up in despair.

Well, then…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I guess it's come to this.

I want to thank everyone for your support over the past four years. FNA has been a slow, long, and fairly painful journey. The story has had a tumultuous start (most certainly not aided by a significant rewrite or two), and a decided lack of maturity or structure. Perfectionist tendencies mixed with disjointed writing spurts result in a poor show all around. I did my best, but I can't say that I'm proud of how it turned out.

What I can say is that I'm damn proud of the response you all have given. As my first foray into fanfiction, I really didn't have much hope for any sort of significant response from anyone. The internet can be a terrible place. You all have surpassed my wildest expectations for encouragement and constructive criticism. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I do owe an explanation of my situation and my failings as a writer. Real life has a lot of challenges (to which you may reply, 'No shit, Sherlock.'), and the path I've chosen for my life is vastly different from the one I dreamt up of four years ago, when I started writing. I suppose I'll bore you with my own story, for a little bit.

I had finished watching Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night after my first semester of engineering school. I had tanked a few finals (Calc and Chem), and I really wanted to escape, if only for a little while. Captain Sparkles had recommended me to watch them a few years ago, and I shrugged and said 'Why not.' I have to say, I can't imagine a better introduction to anime (well, besides DBZ or Gundam or Naruto- but that's another discussion for another time). Winter break passed quickly, and so I threw myself into my studies with a little more vigor.

Somehow, I had more time than I expected. Sparkles had been writing for a while, piquing my interest in the writing scene. Crossovers particularly appealed. I have to say, there's something amazing in fitting together two worlds as seamlessly as possible. I began cobbling together pieces of a fic from CG and FSN, and sent them tentatively to Sparkles. That was a fb convo to be seen, though that's all I remember of it. Come summer, I released the first few chapters of FNA.

Sophomore year came around with a few more classes than I expected. I don't recall much about my writing schedule, other than its spottiness. I do recall that it was in the spring of 2011 that Sparkles published FZE. That lifted my spirits a bit. I was struggling with research and an advanced curriculum, so having someone who I consulted with greatly on this project for a year actually join me- that was pretty nice.

Then there was junior year. It was worse than the college bum-rush of high school junior year. Research projects, exams, problem sets, more exams, the list goes on and on. I was spending more time with my friends, and I was introduced to League of Legends. Yeah, you can probably imagine how writing could slip my mind. But somehow, I made time for a rewrite- which was another problem in itself. I had noticed that my writing style changed significantly (a preference for ~7-10k word chapters, a more fluid description style, and a new appreciation for depth). I also finished the F/SN visual novel, and damn, Nasu can write. Akito also came out, shifting my view on a few things in big ways.

When I looked at FNA, all I could see was a heavy reliance on shounen. That's not me, that's not what I want to do. I wanted suspense, supernatural, politics, and grand strategy to climb to the fore, bringing shounen tropes and ideas for the ride. There was potential in Code Geass and Fate/Stay Night for so much more. FNA just seemed like a mishmash of things, rather than an integration of the two universes to bring my favorite elements out. The whole thing is filled with contrivances and happenstance, too, which made me want to fix the whole thing even more.

But in order to execute my vision, I needed time. That was a luxury I didn't have. Second term junior year, I entered a graduate program for robotics and control systems. My workload skyrocketed.

And that's pretty much why I haven't posted anything for the past year. Senior year was the toughest year of my academic life. I took a part-time job to pay off some debts, and began competing with doctoral students for grades and research opportunities. I had to work in two undergraduate projects, with really unreasonable professors. One of them was my capstone project, required for me to graduate. For that, I built a medical exoskeleton with my roommates. That was cool.

And so I graduated, with a bachelors. To get my masters, I needed to work for the summer (this summer of 2014, incidentally) at a medical research facility. I thought I would never have time to write.

Funnily enough, though, I did. The work-life balance was great. I wrote when I got home from work. But not for FNA.

You see, I couldn't focus on it. There were just too many problems to fix, it was just too clunky.

… I know this is going to create a lot of backlash, but … well …

It's a complete reboot.

I guess I should push forward through this as fast as I can.

The reboot will not replace FNA. FNA will stay up on fanfiction . net, but I won't update it. It'll most likely be renamed to be some sort of archive.

I've posted the first chapter of FNA's reboot in the fic entitled 'Fate: Covenant Apotheosis'. Yeah, the title is a bit pretentious, but 'to whom fate has promised divinity' carries both FSN and CG's intentions quite well, as well as my own. It'll be on the F/SN and CG crossover category (same as this one), so just click the crossover page above and head on over, if you're interested.

I do hope this makes up for my absence. Having no academic work is pretty nice, and all I have to do until the end of August is to finish an arm for a surgical bot. I'm really sorry for not keeping up with this fic, but please, if you liked FNA, try FCA for a week or two.

There, that's out of the way-

Eh? Vortigern?

… _**Why?**_

Great, now I have her on my case. Does anyone know how to console a despondent knight?

_**I could have tasted more, Mordred. I could have consumed all within my kingdom. And I should have consumed you, you ungrateful, bastard child.**_

Eh? I'm not Mordred, Vortigern. You're confusing me with someone else. Now shoo, go away.

_**Hmph. You dare? You dare deprive them of mine glory?**_

Hey, I didn't have much choice, you know.

… _**To break a dragon's heart is terrible and cruel.**_

-!

-Kkk. My throat, get your hand off my throat-

_**I wished to crush that false empress, and to subjugate that pitiful Master of hers. All that remains of my wish is a dream. Britannia will remember your treachery, Mordred.**_

Put me down! I can't breathe, Vorti-!

_**Begone, author of lies. Your pitiful soul will nourish me as your carcass bursts within my maw.**_

…

Crunch. Squish. Drip, drip.

_**Mmm. He was surprisingly … flavorful.**_

_**I suppose it would be better form if I had cooked him, though.**_

…

_**Yes, he does taste much better seared.**_

_**Hm. You, there. It is rude to stare while a king partakes in his nourishment.**_

_**Unless ... You would be so kind to offer yourself as a second course?**_

_**If not, then leave. Go read whatever lies the silver-tongued bastard wrought.**_

_**I'll be waiting.**_


End file.
